


The Tigers Come At Night

by breatheforeverypart



Series: The Tigers Come at Night Universe & Associated Works [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, C-PTSD, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, F/M, Gen, I picked lots of personality traits and expanded on them in this AU, M/M, Rape Recovery, Traumatic Childhoods, You Have Been Warned, however it's mostly trauma based, intense abuse of ALL kinds, there are bits of fluff, various les amis backstories here and there, young adult les amis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: This is a modern AU that centers around Eponine, Grantaire and of course Enjolras and the rest of Les Amis.  Life has not been easy for Eponine and Grantaire.  They suffered sexual, physical, emotional and verbal abuse at the hands of the Thenardiers.  It is a miracle they escaped with Gavroche.  The trio is extremely traumatized and living day to day.  When their past catches up with them and threatens the life of their leader the fragile world they've fought for begins to fall apart.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Eponine and found family
Series: The Tigers Come at Night Universe & Associated Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758631
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Found Family

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Amid the social distancing people on the East Coast are expected to do, I figured it is the right time to re-vamp, edit and continue my story. I have put a lot of work into editing this over the years and have been inspired to continue and finish it. Thanks to "Fear" from hobbywriting for being a source of creative inspiration. 
> 
> I will be posting one chapter a day as long as I'm home from school. As a sped teacher I have been told my school will be closed indefinitely. 
> 
> So far there are 25 chapters...with an ending already in mind and a couple more one-shots in the works.

The familiar fog tugged at her temple as Eponine struggled to focus on the presentation. Enjolras’ bold voice struck terror and unloaded adrenaline in to her bloodstream. 

Every sound amplified and panic shortened her breath. Fuck. Her friends' faces blurred in front of her, each word taking a few extra seconds to resonate. Time was lost. Flashes of memory and emotions distorted reality. Her nails clawed at her thighs. 

"Ep?"

Courfeyrac's voice was quiet in the midst of her mind's chaos, but she latched onto it and let it drag her to the surface.

"Eponine?"

Opening her eyes she took a quick inventory. Nail marks dotted her hands, legs were folded underneath her, muscles pulled taut, and ah the shaking had returned.  
Drawing a breath Eponine ran fingers through her unruly mass of hair. 

"Courf?"

"What's wrong? You alright? Should I call Joly?" He twittered, sounding eerily similar to his poet boyfriend. 

Blinking, Courfeyrac's worried face came into focus, ridiculous apple red glasses and all.

Shame snaked through her middle. "I'm fine." Unfolding from the chair Eponine slipped into her bargain coat and rifled through her bag for her phone.

Nervously Courfeyrac shifted from one converse clad foot to the other. "Are ya sure?"

His query fell on deaf ears as his friend's hobo bag spilled onto the laminated University classroom floor.

"Damn!" she cried, clenching her hands into fists.

Scrambling over, Courfeyrac dropped to his knees. Hearing a sniffle, he noticed Eponine willing tears away by sheer determination and the occasional deep breath.  
As she bent to reclaim a rogue tampon, her friend brushed her shoulder with a few outstretched fingers.

Flinching Eponine pulled away. "Don't." 

Her eyes darkened and Courfeyrac nodded, retrieving the rest of her belongings that had rolled towards the door.

Fuck. Granted, most of her thoughts weren't G-rated, but this was insane. What time was it?   
Shit. Looking around the room, Eponine realized that everyone else had left. Dread pushed her to the floor and questions buzzed around her ears like static.  
With his arms full Courfeyrac meandered towards Eponine, wary of their last interaction. He paused watching her lips drop into a frown and fingers rub her forehead. In the minute it took to dump her remaining belongings in the frayed bag, Eponine's palms hit the floor in front of him.

"Uh Courfeyrac, what happened?"

Maintaining a careful distance, Courfeyrac explained that at the end of Enjorlas' presentation, the Amis had gathered and decided to head over to the Café Musain. Thankfully the proprietor of said establishment favored business, as boisterous and chaotic as their gang was, over empty chairs and tables.

Drawing a breath, he addressed the floor "The gang left 'bout a Top Gear program ago."

She nodded, images slipping through her mind’s eye before she could clearly identify anything concrete. 

“Er. Enjolras’ got a standing ovation for his talk…when you didn’t respond Jehan got worried and tugged your hair. You know, like he normally does?” 

Eponine closed her eyes and felt the muscles in her neck twitch at the thought of hands brushing against her skin. Digging her toes into the soles of her shoes, Eponine opened her eyes and cleared her throat. Just push it away, she begged herself. She tried to force her mouth in to a twisted and hopefully not psychotic looking grin and jammed R’s beanie on her head. 

Encouraged by her small smile, he offered his hands. "Shall we darling?"

"But of course my love." Eponine began to reply seductively, until her voice betrayed her with a hitched sob.

***

Shakily the stubborn 19-year old evaded concerns and subtle prying from her long time friend the entire walk to their usual hangout. As much as she loved him, Eponine couldn’t focus on what he was jabbering on about. Despite this, his voice was something to hold on to and anchor her to reality.   
Among the apartment buildings the wind pushed and pulled the pair, re-arranging their attire and whipping Eponine's hair into knots. Her extremities were comfortably numb thanks to the city’s architecture and winter weather. Courf’s coat dwarfed her, but it was warm and familiar. 

In all her years with the Thenardiars, crying was never tolerated. If anything it justified more abuse. Why now? Four months, nine days and ten hours. How long before Eponine could count of R and Gavroche being safe? Before they could sleep for more than a couple minutes at a time and live again?


	2. Comfortable Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek inside the Cafe Musain

"'Ponine?"

"What?" She snapped, hand on the knife hidden in the strap of her bra.

Instead of a drunken customer, Courfrayac's naïve eyes filled with worry found hers.

He dug his hands in to his pockets and shrugged. "Wanna go in? Have a cuppa?"

Eponine’s frown settled in to her trademark smirk. "Fine. Gotta call 'Roche first. Save me a seat yeah?" Collapsing on the familiar stone step, she rolled through her contacts until her little brother's face lit up the screen.

"Mon frère, what's up?"

She could hear scuffling and the dull roar of drunken voices fighting a geriatric stereo for control.  
"Nothing 'Ponine." He trilled, breaking in to a cough that barely covered a cry of "Shut it, you arse!"

Rolling her eyes, Eponine let her arm fall away from her ear, hiked the bag against her shoulder, and ripped the door to the Café open. Putting her years in government housing to use, Eponine assessed the familiar premises.   
Her eyes skimmed over the regular drunks and scared shitless blind date couples at the bar, until she spotted a familiar mop of dirty blond hair among the college students. Mon dieu, would it kill her dear brother to use a comb?

In six strides, she crossed the room and drummed her fingers against her sibling's matted waves.  
Gavroche let his head drop and blinked sheepishly at his sister.

"Aww fuck." Courfeyrac muttered from somewhere behind Ep, fiddling with his plastic frames.

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose and reddened before squaring his shoulders.   
Ah, the leader of the infamous Les Amis she thought. Oblivious? Yes, that describes Enjolras. Hunched over his laptop, muttering something about a firewall.

"This security….Gav?” Reaching a hand behind him, Enjolras froze.

Amused with the leader’s hand brushing her thigh, Eponine raised an eyebrow "Oh no, Monsieur. Please continue if you’d like to lose that limb."  
With all the grace of the 11th Doctor the leader blanched and withdrew his hand before turning.

"Ah Eponine." A flush highlighted Enjolras' cheekbones as he cleared his throat. "Gav said you knew." He mumbled meekly.

"Sure. Trust the 7-year old boy who was suspended last week for picking lockers."

Indignant Gavroche wriggled out of his guardian's hold.

"They deserved it. Dicks."

"LANGUAGE." Eponine yelled glaring at Courfeyrac, who under her eye hid behind Combeferre. She sighed raking a hand through her tangled hair. "Ow, shit."

Before she could fully process what was happening the poet's hands wrapped around her waist as Jehan laid his head against her neck.

"What color is that?" She exclaimed, trying to hide her panic, looking down at her friend's latest manicure.

"Mint candy apple and peach sorbet." Releasing her bony frame, Jehan grasped her hand. "Missed you love-bug. Is that a wrapper?" Distractions were commonplace when communicating with the poet and more thoughts were left unfinished than completed.

However in this case, Jehan frowned as he gently untangled a sweets foil and three leaves from her wind-swept-do.  
Clucking his tongue the poet led Eponine to a table despite her protests.

"Enough darling. When I'm through, maybe you can plait my locks." He grinned.

Finally she consented after a quick look over at the boys, most of whom were participating in a 'Chubby Bunny' contest. Gavroche was nestled comfortably in Courfeyrac’s lap and she felt herself exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

Moaning, she thought of the sugar rush she'd have to deal with and collapsed against the back of the chair.

"Marshmallows, marshmallows" Jehan sang quietly running a neon orange comb through his friend's unruly locks. "Know what that means 'Ponine?"

"Ah, I've got a sugar hangover to deal with in the morn'?"

With a wag of his polished finger the poet pointed to Courfeyrac "My Energizer bunny is charging for the night."

After a moment they burst out in hysterics, laughing until they nearly fell out of their seats.


	3. Escorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Flashbacks related to sexual trauma, it happens at the end of the chapter.

As most games with the Les Amis do, 'Chubby Bunny' ended in tears, a declaration of revolution, and vomit.

"How was I 'posed to know?" He wailed.

"Cause it always does." Eponine muttered. "Aha!" Straddling Gavroche, she managed to shove a hat on his head and all but fasten his coat.

"Say adieu Gav, we gotta go." Shrugging on her own coat, Eponine took a stool next to Jehan.

"And how is our resident sweet-toothed loser?" She smiled.

Groaning, Courfeyrac clutched his stomach dramatically. "Shoulda known Gav was hustlin' me when he brought out the Peeps."

Bahorel swept his finger along the wrappings and gleaned morsels of blue sugar. 

"Damn. He's not supposed to have those." Stifling a yawn Eponine kissed Jehan's cheek and Courfeyrac's head before another attempt to herd the little bugger.

"Take care of him yeah? She called, lifting a suddenly exhausted Gavroche to his feet. “And don’t let Bahorel take home the remainder of the sweets, Feuilly will have my head.” 

"Always." Jehan responded. Lifting a finger to Courfeyrac's mouth, Jehan rubbed off a trail of pink sugar before leaning in for a kiss. 

In response to her request, Bahorel flipped her off and zipped the package of Peeps against his chest. 

Even as she stood in the foyer buttoning 'Roche's coat and arguing with him about the merits of mittens, Eponine's mind was else ware. At quarter past eleven, the streets appeared quiet and calm. A few months ago this time of night constituted peak 'business' hours. Closing her eyes, she inhaled sharply hoping to exhale unwelcome memories of clients. Sheer will pushed the nausea away as she fought for control.

"C'mon kid. Time to get home yeah?"

Shrugging Gavroche pushed bangs out of his eyes and yawned. "Combeferre helped me with my worksheets. Can I watch a show when we get back?"

"Eponine." A voice cut the quiet in the foyer and heavy footsteps made the siblings flinch.

"About to head out Enjolras." Winding a scarf around her neck, she turned to face him.

"Walk you home?"

"Fine." Eyeing him, they began their walk through the maze of impoverished Paris. To her credit, when Enjolras insisted on carrying her bag Eponine did not react like mugging victim. Although she did maintain a firm grip on the pepper spray attached to her keys.

"Good girl ‘Ponine, way to act normal." She applauded sarcastically.

When Gavroche ran ahead to check the status of a feral cat he 'adopted' with Grantaire, Eponine cleared her throat.

"Why are you doing this?"

Enjolras sighed. "Is it possible that I am a gentleman? There are times I am not made of marble."

Snorting, she nodded. "So, you heard about that nickname did you?"

"Your roommate is anything, but subtle. Especially in his near constant state of intoxication."

"Fuck off." He doesn't bloody know the half of it. She thought, storming ahead.

Taking a few long strides, Enjolras caught up with her.

"N-not what I meant 'Ponine." He exhaled slowly, clearly out of breath. 

Christ. Just because this golden haired statue had every one of the Les Amis wrapped around his finger didn't give him the goddamn right to fuck her roommate a few times and treat him like shit in the daylight.

Reaching the dilapidated tenement, she took a deep breath and tossed her keys to Gavroche.

"Take these, let 'Taire know we're back, brush your teeth and sort our your bag for tomorrow. Be up in a minute."

Shifting her weight, Eponine drew on all of her height and leaned close to Enjolras.

"Now you. Get off your arse and grow a pair. Either date him or tell him it's over. Figure it out."

"I…I…ah Ep." He stuttered, combing his hair with shaky fingers.

"Got your attention didn't I?" She smirked. In a softer voice she confessed "Look, do what you have to a 'right? Just don't…he's been through..."  
Fear and hurt darkened her face like a storm before she shook her head sending Jehan's braid over her shoulder.

"Never mind. G'night Enjolras, thanks for the escort."

Closing the main door, Eponine pivoted to face the rickety staircase. Junk wrappers and crap advert papers littered the hall.

Just shut it Ep, there's no use opening old wounds. You put on enough of a show tonight at Uni. 

A dorm slammed somewhere above her and argumentative voices mingled with late night programs.  
His voice. 

Four more steps.

Breath, stale and sour. 

Five doors down. One, two…

Who knew how many? Man after man in the shoddy apartment.

On the left.

All she ever tasted. Choking, choking, choking.

Only ever be a whore.

Grantaire

Grantaire 

Grantaire


	4. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Eponine's triggered flashbacks.

"'R!"

The end of Gavroche's muffled shout reached Grantaire in a brief rest between songs.

"Petit homme!" By way of greeting the artist took his charcoal smeared hands and pressed them against the boy's cheeks. "Where's you sister?" He asked, removing his headphones.

"Talking to Enjolras" He answered innocently. Dumping the contents of his school sack on the worn wood, Gavroche tossed through the pile of rubbish, books and dog-eared papers.

Grantaire swallowed thickly. Even his instincts were conflicted. His heart hammered and thoughts tripped over themselves trying to be heard in the cacophony.  
What was he doing here? 

Fuck. Could use a shower. 

'Ponine's gonna kill him. 

Turpentine isn't sexy. 

What's wrong with me?

No more. Not after last time. 

"Enough." He whispered to himself and shifted his attention to the boy. "Shit. Gav, what are you doing? Christ, it's way past your bedtime."

Scrunching up his nose the boy stood up. "You're not 'Ponine."

Crossing his arms Grantaire sighed. "Half a program of Doctor Who on the couch and one of Cosette's cookies IF you manage to brush your teeth and change in the next 5 minutes."

After a pause, Gavroche spit in his hand and offered it to Grantaire. "Deal."

"Off with you" he grinned "Oy, finish with your school crap! If 'Ponine trips over it we're both dead."

Le petit homme dutifully crammed papers and books into his dilapidated sack and Grantaire rummaged through the fridge. After settling on cereal (without milk, since a taste test proved it to be spoiled), a strange scratching drew his attention to the door. 

Though he gave a halfhearted attempt to ignore it, Grantaire had developed a soft spot for the neighborhood brothel's cat. Every few days, the poor animal wandered from building to building looking for a scrap or two.

"Come on then." He relented, undoing the puzzle of locks.

The door opened and Grantaire found himself on his knees. "E-Eponine?"

Every inch of her was shaking. Her eyes were dark and leaked tears.

"I promise…please stop." She mumbled, fumbling with her hands.

Rubbing his forehead, Grantaire slowly reached for her.

This was their dance. Most people around their age were students. Happily living off of their bourgeoisie parents' money. Partying whenever they wanted. They had custody of a 7-year old kid. They barely made rent every month. They dealt with nightmares of past lives that they could never really awaken from.  
"Ep, please. It's me. Grantaire." With the grace of using a calligraphy pen, he lifted her chin. 

Although she jumped away Grantaire continued "You are safe 'Ponine. I promise. We are safe now."

A shake of her head was barely discernible among the spasms that made her vibrate.

"Grantaire. 'Taire I don't wanna do this anymore. Please."

"I know Ep. I know. Here." He offered, leaning forward to gather her in his arms.

***

Hushed voices rose in volume as Eponine absently stretched. The calm she felt quickly turned to panic as she bolted upright. The mattress under her was uncovered and she was tangled in an old quilt pinched from a street fair last summer. Grantaire's room. Fingering dried paint on the floor, Eponine attempted to piece together the last few minutes or hours? Damn this loss of time.

A quick search of her person revealed her phone, which informed her that it was a quarter after midnight. There were 2 texts from Courfeyrac, both cryptic.   
Her head was spinning and Cosette in all of her psychology major wisdom would say that she was probably still dissociating. The blonde with her large doe eyes would also touch her arm and tell her to process everything. Ugh. Yanking on a pair of her roommate's socks Eponine pulled on the loose knob and stood in the doorway.

"'Ponine!" a little voice cried, followed by the sound of bare feet running towards her.

"Hey baby." She smiled, pulling her sibling into a hug. "What are you doing up?"

"Worried 'bout you." He frowned.

"No need to worry bug, I'm fine." Forcing a laugh she released him to do a quick turn. "See?"

Shaking his head, Gavroche looked at his sister. "You looked like Mom, and you couldn't talk right."

Biting her lip, Eponine caught Grantaire's eye across the room.

Shifting her attention back to the boy, she knelt down. "Tell you what, why don't you take Quincy tonight? I think he's getting tired of me."

"Alright." He nodded slowly.

"Night Grantaire, night 'Ponine." The boy yawned, dragging a bedraggled old teddy bear off to his corner of the room he usually shared with his sister.

"Love you Gavroche, good night."

"Night petit homme" Grantaire echoed softly.

Once the shoddy door shut Eponine folded her arms and moved to the kitchen where Grantaire was dumping the remnants of a cookie into the trash.

"You know, I thought you were are a cat with all of that scratching."

Quickly Eponine examined her arms before turning to her closest friend.

"Did I…I hurt you?"

"No, no." Replacing the lid, he wiped his hands on his shirt. "You scratched at the front door, and I thought you were the ladies' cat."

Laughing, she tried to pull at her ponytail surprised to find her hair neatly plaited with hints of crushed flowers along its' length.

"Shit. What happened?" As she undid the braid, Grantaire added his story to the clues Eponine had gathered. Her neatly plaited hair. The texts from Courfeyrac.

"Shouldn't this only happen with hangovers…you know after some fun was had?" She exhaled settling against Grantaire on the sofa.

"We'll get there Ep." He sighed, nibbling on a pen cap. "What's the last thing you remember before the Courfeyrac-classroom-incident?"

He walked in. Enjolras' presentation was about the aid trip he and Les Amis had been organizing. They needed funding for supplies and were appealing to the University for sponsors. He was there. Montparnasse. How long had it been? 

"Ep?"

His twisted grin in the ill lighting. Leaning over her, Eponine felt his erection through the grimy fabric. His hands were vices and pinned her beneath him again. 

"Breath. Eponine. In and out okay."

Her body betrayed her. His breath hot and thick, against her ear. "Now I know how much you love our time together." With a laugh, he spilled out in her hair and face. 

Gagging. Cool hands brushed her neck. The stench of bleach and urine filled her nose and the dingy bathroom spun around her.

"Welcome back." Grantaire said motherly. In low tones, he started to hum.

Closing her eyes, Eponine leaned against the ancient tub and fought to breath normally. After a flush, she felt Grantaire's body beside her. As the minutes passed, Eponine slipped her hand into his, and he let his head rest against her shoulder.

***

Eventually Eponine's breathing evened and Grantaire carried her to his mattress. Gavroche didn't need to witness the aftershocks of his sister's flashbacks.  
He thanked God that at the time, the boy didn't understand who and what Thenardiar sold in the backrooms of 'The Family Inn'. 

As a foster kid, Grantaire remembered being told that he needed to contribute, since the stipend per kid that came monthly from the state was not ‘enough’.   
He settled on the mattress, keeping himself as close to 'Ponine as possible without touching her. When they’d initially become roommates at the tender ages of 6 and 8 they used to fall asleep wrapped around one another. Mostly for warmth, but hey, the habit stuck. 

Repeated trauma had linked their sense of control with physical touch. Days could go by where Eponine cringed if anyone came within a meter of her body. She’d double up on weaponry for ‘self-defense’, but Grantaire added extra distance between them and put precautionary measures in place. He trained Gavroche how to approach his sister without triggering a flashback or meltdown. 

On more than one occasion Grantaire had to be bailed out of jail. He’d swear an asshole looked at him wrong or a ‘John’ had tried to pick him up. Eponine dutifully fetched him and the walk back to their flat was always silent. It was the sort of understanding that didn’t require words. 

Survival. It was why he worked three shit jobs. He made a promise. Somewhere along his shitty existence he’d met Eponine and as time went on it became clear that they were family. He’d vowed to always take care of them. Eponine had proven her loyalty to him with many bloody lips, broken noses and displays of affection in her own warped way. 

Work was easier than caring. To stop and think was a death sentence. Who had time for frivolities like consistently hot water and God forbid lust? Grantaire knew that if he stopped moving for even a second, he’d shatter in to a thousand pieces.   
Even so. As he fell asleep, the glow of Grantaire's phone betrayed a vice. His thumb settled on a text and an index finger traced the letters of a man's name.


	5. Bathroom Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we check in on Courfeyrac and Jehan. It's a bit of an insight into the Les Amis friendships and history with each other. 
> 
> A bit of Enjolras at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying well during this self quarantine period. Please leave me comments and constructive feedback. Bonus points if you spot the musical theater reference.

Just five blocks away, Courfeyrac lay curled against the base of the toilet cursing the manufacturers of marshmallows.

"Fucking Peeps" He moaned, feeling the sweets bubble up his throat. As the flushing ebbed away, Courfeyrac heard the door creak open.

"Pink!" He exclaimed weakly. "Of all the shit colors Jehan." Smiling he let his head fall against the wall.

"I'll have you know these are magenta darling." Wagging a finger, he ran a washcloth under cool water. "Here" Kneeling over him Jehan swept his hair aside and held the cloth against his brow.

"Bless you" Courfeyrac sighed. "From your floral dressing robe to your pink fuzzy slippers."

The tile rattled under Jehan's foot and he withdrew his boyfriend's phone from beneath the slipper. "Hmm." He frowned.

"What is it?" Courfeyrac murmured into Jehan's neck, clearly seeking comfort.

"Two texts from Grantaire and one from Enjolras."

"Whadda they say?" He answered, eyes nearly closed.

Blushing Jehan placed the phone in the Courfeyrac's lap. "It's not my business, your phone."

"Always a gentleman." He retorted. "Let's see here…"

Absently Jehan played with Courfeyrac's hair. "Is everything alright?"

"Eponine." Her name fell heavy in the space between them. The couple reached for each other and stood.

"Should I make coffee or tea?" Jehan asked, knotting the tie of his robe around his waist.

"Ah. Ale?" Courfeyrac asked hopefully.

"Black tea for you." The poet decided, flicking on a burner. "Tell me." Leaning against the counter, Jehan waiting for Courfeyrac to take the stool opposite him.

"Well, tonight everyone went to Enjolras' presentation at Albert Hall. Something spooked her. I can't tell you what did it. After it ended, everyone clapped and started to leave." Raising his hands and voice Courfeyrac continued. "She didn't. Her legs were pulled up underneath the desk, and her hands were cupped 'round her ears."

Supporting his head with a hand, his voice cracked. "No matter how many times I called her name, she didn't respond or couldn't. Dunno."

The kettle whistled and Jehan listened as Courfeyrac recounted helping Eponine clean up her upturned bag and the walk to the Café.  
Playing with the tea bag, Courfeyrac waited for his boyfriend to process what he'd said.

"Love, I noted her strange behavior earlier. Although I attributed it to Gavroche joining us so late."

Adding honey Jehan chewed his lip thoughtfully. "She also flinched when I hugged her, then again when I detangled and braided her hair."

"Then there's the matter of this." Courfeyrac sighed, scrolling through his phone to find the text from Grantaire.

"Ep had a breakdown. What happened tonight?" Jehan read aloud. As he read along he quieted and his eyes grew wide.

"Has this happened before?" The poet asked brow knitted in concern.

"You know Grantaire, he's the duo's watchdog. I knew him in grade school, but it wasn't as if we were all that close. Won't say much about their past. She does the same thing. They moved here last year." Courfeyrac shrugged.

"It probably was not ideal if they have custody of Gavroche." Jehan mused.

A new text vibrated on the counter and Courfeyrac pounced. "Damn." He smiled scrolling though the conversation.

"What?" Jehan asked before taking a sip of his Sleepy-time lavender tea.

Laughing Courfeyrac summarized. "Our little soldier verbally kicked Enjolras' arse on their walk back to Skid Row."

"You're jesting!" The poet choked.

"Nope. Evidently she gave him an ultimatum about Grantaire. And our pretty boy is still clueless."

"Not after this evening." The poet grinned coyly.

"I'd know your scheming face anywhere." Licking the spoon, Courfeyrac lightly tapped Jehan's nose. "What are you planning?"

"Don't you think the poet should lend a hand to Cupid?"

Groaning Courfeyrac removed his glasses. "Are we really going to meddle in their love life? ENJOLRAS' no less?"

"Come now" He enticed playfully leaning against the counter. "We'll discuss it tomorrow."

Looping a finger in the neckline of Jehan's shirt, Courfeyrac kissed him.

"Fine. But I'm not talking to Monsieur Marble about his marble."

***

The word on the page began to move and Enjolras blinked. He'd only been at this for…what was the time? Quarter after 3 AM. Oh. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose he exhaled and switched off the desk lamp. Combeferre would kill him if he knew. Luckily he was sound asleep in the other bedroom.

For the hundredth time that evening, Enjolras dissected the events after he and Eponine left Café Musain. How had he put it to Courf? Ah, he "got his arse verbally kicked" by the dark haired beauty.

There weren't many things that scared him. He had publicly questioned the campus' board of directors last spring in regards to sexual assault policies on campus and campaigned for equal marriage rights in dangerous conservative neighborhoods.

Grantaire. The cynic. If it were possible to turn back the clock until they were strangers Enjolras did not know what he would chose. Surely, if they were strangers he would be more focused and driven on the cause.

He would not see a couple sitting in the park and wish it were him and 'Taire.

He wouldn't have an apple for lunch and remember the time Grantaire sketched him eating lunch one afternoon while he was pouring over notes.

He would not watch Jehan and Courfeyrac kiss on film nights and have his fingers itch for Grantaire's hand.

Yet here he was. Lying in bed, emotion thick in his throat Enjolras tried to keep up with his thoughts.

What did he want? That was the question Combeferre had asked. Like most of their conversations, Combeferre had cut through his defenses and accessed the heart of the matter.

Silence had fallen over the pair, and Combeferre clamped a hand on his roommate's shoulder before retiring for the evening. After all he had his internship at "the arse-crack of dawn" as they called it.

Grantaire. He wanted Grantaire. Yes. It was so simple. The love that he had always held for Patria, for his city and country extended to 'Taire. Every speech improved by leaps and bounds when he attended a meeting. Enjolras' debate skills were never sharper then when Grantaire played devil's advocate. He occupied his every thought and when they were apart it felt as though a limb was missing.

That happened didn't it? Phantom limb syndrome, Joly had mentioned it. Enjolras folded in half and reached into the empty space. The nothingness haunted and ache filled him until the loneliness was too great.

Unlocking his phone, Enjolras typed out a message to a man that he would never send and read the lines over and over until at last he fell into an uneasy slumber.


	6. Surplus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Musichetta and her Cafe where Eponine works. Trigger warning for graphic flashback of severe abuse and human trafficking.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck."

Followed by a crash and more cursing.

"Whassamattar" Grantaire asked groggily, one hand on the hammer he kept by the mattress.

Rubbing his face, he forced his eyes open in the bright room. Part of his next paycheck was going towards curtains even if he had to skip a few meals because of the purchase.

"We're late!" Eponine screeched before rushing from the room.

"Ah bollocks." Grantaire muttered donning a hooded jumper.

Eponine's voice rose another octave from kitchen. Stepping into a partially clean pair of jeans Grantaire joined the fray.

Without making eye contact, she tossed him a lump of tinfoil. "Put this in Gav's pack will ya?"

Flipping her head forward Eponine hurriedly tamed her hair into a bun. "Buddy we've got 3 minutes!" She yelled, running towards the bathroom.

"I can't find pants!" Gavroche wailed, stumbling into the living room with a shoe in hand and its' mate untied barely secured on his other foot.

"Shit. The laundry." Grantaire stood from the couch to see his roommate leaning her back against the sink with hands against either side of her skull. She was murmuring about the laundry, as if by squeezing her temple fresh clothes would appear.

"'Kay petit homme. Com'ere." Quickly Grantaire tied the boy's laces in artistic knots and told him upturn the hamper, pick a dirty pair and bring it to him. "Ep, you aren't superwoman. I'll get Gav to school. When do you work today?"

"Half an hour." She exclaimed, after a glance at her phone. "Are you sure? If he's late again they'll ask to meet with us."

Rolling his eyes Grantaire leaned towards Eponine to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "God knows we need to avoid that." Laughing he pushed her towards the shower. "Get clean, and I'll meet up with you later."

Closing the bathroom door Grantaire headed into the room (which was a generous term) the siblings shared.

Gavroche was kneeling in a huge pile of dirty laundry. "Alright, let's do the sniff-test. What are your top two choices?" He asked, watching the boy pause before choosing a pair of faded khakis and dirt-stained denim. "Which smells cleaner buddy?"

Grantaire leaned in to sniff with Gavroche and immediately the denim pants were tossed aside. "What the hell did you do in those?!" He yelled, backing up a few steps.

Sheepishly Gav fastened the khakis "Ah, Thomas and I got in the dump last week. We were scavenging!"

"Next time, strip at the door. Do you hear me?" He lectured, spraying Gavroche's bottom half with air freshener he'd borrowed from the bathroom at work last week.

"Fuck, we gotta run." Grantaire muttered, slugging the boy's pack on to his own shoulder.

Tugging on a hat and coat, Gavroche waited for his role model to unlock the door and flick off the finicky florescent light. A veteran childcare provider would have noticed how the boy's school bag bulged and nearly burst through the zipper.

In the haste and chaos of the morning, breakfast, a failed project, and a hidden object slipped through the cracks. Here's what Gavroche would say about cracks. They tend to expand with time, swallowing more and more until finally the cracks are too big to be ignored.

***

The front door slammed just as Eponine applied the worn razor to her leg. "Motherf-" She hissed watching the water wash away her mistake.

Quickly she finished shaving as carefully as she could.

Avoiding the mirror Eponine wrapped a towel around herself and began untangling her hair.

As her fingers weaved her damp locks into a relaxed French braid, her mind wandered.

_Failure._

_You let Grantaire fix your mistake._

_You're going to owe him._

_Worthless piece of shit._

_Gav doesn't deserve this._

Angry at this pity party, Eponine tied off her braid and finished drying herself with the crusty towel.

Just another day.

Work at 'Chetta's. Pick up Gavroche. Lug laundry and the little bug to Courfeyrac and Jehan's apartment to borrow their washer and dryer. Grantaire should be able to bring back some dinner scraps from Chez Catherine. Christ. Enough. Forget about him. Biting her lip Eponine pushed the thought of Montparnasse away. She could not afford another distraction or breakdown.

***

16 minutes later she yanked on the backdoor of the Café. It wouldn't budge. Fed up, Eponine kicked it a few times until she heard grumbling and felt someone tugging the door from the kitchen.

"Remy! Am I early? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She teased, ditching her coat and donning an apron.

"Oui, oui. Was on me way out when I heard your battle with the door." The baker retorted. With a wink he yanked the stubborn door behind him.

Smoothing her apron over her stomach Eponine appraised Remy's inventory. Evidently he'd been inspired by apples. Apple flavored breads; pastries, pies and muffins littered the counters.

"Ah, now you've seen the pomme explosion oui?" Musichetta laughed watching Eponine's reaction.

"Morning 'Chetta." She yawned. "Remy went a bit overboard this time."

Shrugging Musichetta selected a miniature muffin and popped it in her mouth. "At least these sell." Swallowing she licked her fingers and continued. "Remember when he tried carrot and squash recipes in the fall?"

Eponine nodded and involuntarily shuddered. Autumn had left the trio broke after buying school supplies for Gav and paying off the electric bill. Since Remy's experiments didn't sell, Musichetta insisted she take them home. Gavroche swore off the aforementioned vegetables as soon as they were able to afford food again.

"Mmmm. Eponine you have to try one. There's caramel. Seriously, it's like an orgasm…with apple." She sighed happily and handed her employee a mini muffin. Before she could politely refuse the charity, Eponine's stomach growled. "Sure."

She blushed, biting in to the tiny treat. "Yum." She nodded, wiping her mouth with her thumb.

"Right?!" 'Chetta confirmed. "Joly and Bossuet are going to LOVE these."

"Be mindful of crumbs getting in the bed 'Chetta. Joly'll have a panic attack." She teased.

Laughing Musichetta agreed. "And Bossuet will probably choke or something. It's always something with my boys."

The two young women emerged from the kitchen and proceeded to open the bakery and café for the day. The conversation was easy, and Eponine often imagined Musichetta to be her older sister.

Joly volunteered at an emergency center a couple years ago and often saw Grantaire and Eponine herding their foster siblings around the waiting room once a month for free exams and hygiene kit handouts. Grantaire and Joly began hanging out and the rest as they say is history. Musichetta took to Eponine immediately and offered her a part time job waiting tables at her café after school.

"Why don't you start on Remy's dishes and I'll take care of the regulars, all right?"

Musichetta gestured towards the kitchen as she organized the menus behind the counter. Once Joly started at university and interning at the local hospital he could nick 'surplus' supplies for his friends.

Grantaire and he were quite close, but it was not until Halloween her junior year in secondary school that she learned she could trust Joly.

With her arms submerged in soapy water, Eponine tumbled into memories of that Halloween night.

_Grantaire double-checked the pantry door gently testing the knob. "Stay quiet until 'Ponine or I use the knock."_ _He whispered._

_Grabbing Eponine's hand he steered them to the usual room. Gordon, Leslie, Claudette, and Anne Marie along with the others were already kneeling in front of paying customers._

_"Shit." Eponine muttered under her breath._

_With a final squeeze of her hand Grantaire slipped into the line next to Gordon and left her next to Leslie._

_Man after man yanked at her growing breasts, lifted her skirt and appraised her body. Anything short of penetration was acceptable. Papa only drew the line there so he could earn more money._

_One by one they were chosen and Maman escorted each matched pair to a dingy room._

_As Grantaire walked by he winked, earning a smack from Papa. Just when Eponine thought she could breath and would have the first round of the evening off, he walked in._

_She caught snippets of the conversation between this new man and her father. "…paying…something younger. Whore's too old."_

_"_ _50 more francs and you'll break her in." Papa answered quickly, determined not to lose this patron._

_Dread filled her stomach and Eponine began to pray, a practice she had fallen out of years ago._

_"Robine! Get Azelma. Now!" Her keeper roared._

_Closing her eyes Eponine felt her heart constrict along with her hands. No, no , no. Not Azelma. Not her sister. Please stay quiet please please please. Don't make a sound she willed the little ones._

_What seemed like a century passed until she heard her mother's familiar voice wound with disappointment and anger. She appeared dragging Azelma by her hair._

_Following her were the children, those too young or 'ugly' to be sold yet._

_A sob caught in her throat as Eponine fought to stay in control of her actions._

_Vaguely she was aware of Papa counting money and the man grabbing Azelma by the arm. Then she was tearing him away from her. Using her body, Eponine did her best to block 'Zelma from the blows._

_"Please! Please listen." She screamed, no longer trying to shield her face. "I'll do whatever you want. Anything. Just don't touch her." She begged._

_Vomit itched its way up her throat as she laid a hand on his chest._

_Nodding, her Papa allowed it. He would get his money in the end. It didn't matter what whore was chosen. "Go get ready." Father barked, shoving her onto the mattress in the room across the hall._

_Once she lifted herself off the mattress and realized she saved Azelma, a familiar chill crept up her neck. "No." She breathed, backing against the wall._

_Four pairs of eyes found hers. The Patron-Minette. There was no way out. She knew what was coming._

_Leslie had gossiped about what happened to Mara. Why she never spoke anymore and couldn’t stand to be touched._

_"_ _Well 'Ponine. Meet Montparnasse. My new runner. He's here on a trial basis."_

_The new man oozed filth and as her eyes scanned his paunchy frame she noted a bulge in his pants._

_"Please don't…I'll be good." Six was nothing in a night. She had become used to more than ten. Yet, this wasn't regular business hours. This was punishment._

_"You didn't think you'd get away with that stunt did you bitch? Little shit. You'll pay for that cunt." Her dear Papa spat, stepping towards her with his metal clipboard._

_Her body regained consciousness before her brain. Her body was on fire. That could be the only logical explanation for this pain._

_This white-hot agony that tore through her pelvis in even rhythms. One of them slapped her face and forced her mouth open to receive him._

_Gagging, Eponine arched her back and instinctively fought against the intrusion. Another entry between her legs caused her to kick out until finally her father's fist knocked against her skull._

_Finally the welcomed darkness came over her mind, disconnecting her brain from her broken body._

"Eponine? Ma chou-chou, come back to me." Musichetta called.

"'Chetta?" Eponine's voice was small and childlike.

Her boss and friend visibly relaxed and managed a wobbly smile. The younger brunette brushed hair out of her eyes.

"Look at me, please. It's all right. " Musichetta asked.

Drawing a shaky breath, Eponine lifted her gaze. Lifting her arms, she reached for Musichetta and carefully collapsed against her friend. They sat like that, Eponine alternating between hyperventilating and dissociating and Musichetta murmuring words of comfort and grounding for almost an hour.

The tile beneath them soapy and wet.

Above their heads, the tap dripped into the now empty double industrial sink. As Eponine's breathing evened out, Musichetta scanned the soppy mess.

Pans and measuring cups surrounded the ladies and flooded the counters attached to the sink above them. The late breakfast crowd and early lunch rush would be here in less than two hours.

Shifting Eponine towards her lap, Musichetta texted her lovers. A few moments passed before her phone lit up, affirming that Bossuet and Joly would leave shortly, after a quick bath. Grinning, Musichetta felt her face flush.

Sighing pleasantly she stroked Eponine's braid, tucking loose strands back in to place.


	7. Coffee Intervention

Lathering Bossuet's back, Joly interrogated his lover. "How exactly did you manage to bruise your shoulder blade?"

He twittered, gently fingering the dark purple splotch. Hanging his head Bossuet addressed the water. "Told you, I managed to catch my foot on the fan cord as I was watering Musichetta's plants. I didn't want them to tip over, so I went to catch the aloe cutting and…"

"You fell." Joly finished, pressing a kiss against his neck.

Sighing Bossuet leaned into Joly. "Do we have to leave?" He whined.

"Yes" The med student affirmed, rinsing his boyfriend's back and exiting the tub.

"Musichetta needs our help at the shop, and since I am pulling a double tonight at the hospital and you don't have class for a couple hours we are going."

Nodding Bossuet lifted a leg over the lip of the bath and found himself heading towards the tile.

"Can't leave you alone for minute!" Joly exclaimed, heaving Bossuet to his feet. "Did you twist anything?"

Shaking his head, Bossuet began to rub himself dry. "Remember when Courfeyrac started that bet about how long I could go without injury?"

Laughing Joly nodded and opened the bathroom door. "That lasted less than a day right?" He called, ditching the towel on the floor of their bedroom.

"Oui." Bossuet confirmed, adding a bit of product to his hair before leaving the bathroom. "Can I borrow your maroon jumper? The one 'Chetta gave you last Christmas?" He asked, scratching his ear as he meandered in to the threesome's room. "Joly?" He sang, dressing his lower half.

Turning he noticed Joly sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone in stony silence. "Honey what's wrong?" He asked gently.

Biting his lip, Joly explained barely containing his anger. "Musichetta wants my first aid kit. After Remy's accident last month they ran out of butterfly bandages."

Bossuet paled as he gripped Joly's shoulder. "No, it's not her. Apparently the sink overflowed and when the ladies were collecting the dirty dishes Eponine was cut."

"Allons-y" Bossuet stood and went in search of shoes. Keeping his face stony, Bossuet didn’t trust his voice.

Worry consumed his chest as he knew Eponine’s days-without-injury-record were far fewer than his. Joly chose not to speak and set his jaw in a determined matter.

With practiced care he packed his messenger bag with supplies borrowed from their well-stocked medicine cabinet. It's different. She is safe. They both are.

Swallowing Joly remembered Grantaire's panicked face well after midnight a couple Halloweens ago.

He'd never seen Grantaire so out of control, curls wild, eyes red and voice overcome with fear. "Ready babe?" Bossuet called.

"Oui." He answered, fastening his pack.

***

"What's one more scar?" Eponine laughed bitterly.

Adding another rag to the wound Musichetta slowly bent her friend's elbow above her heart. "Keep pressure on it love, I'll be back in a moment."

"Go make sure Felix doesn't have a conniption with the register." A grimace flickered across her features as she attempted to wave her boss away.

The door swung open again and Eponine sighed. "Does Felix need help with orders?"

"Try again." A serious voice answered.

"Joly." Defeated, she surrendered her arm. "I told Musichetta not to call you. I'm fine. You should be sleeping before your double."

"Let me see." He frowned, lifting the dishtowels that were pressed to the inside of her forearm. "Ep, how did this happen? I expect accidents from Bossuet, but you usually land on your feet."

"Lately my feline powers have been on the fritz." She winced as he probed the cut.

"Sorry darling."

"We both know it's been worse."

Pursing his lips, the medical student nodded curtly. "A couple butterfly bandages should do it…since I assume you'll refuse going to the clinic?"

Eponine raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, yeah, quick and dirty. I know." He returned swabbing his friend's wound with anti-bacterial cream.

A few minutes later Joly had Eponine's forearm wrapped in gauze and an elastic bandage which was then fastened the whole thing with metal closures.

"You're a professional mon ami." She teased, touching his wrist. "Merci beaucoup." Eponine whispered.

Joly's words were lodged in his throat and all he could do was nod.

After a moment Eponine drew him in to a one-armed embrace before smoothing her apron and entering the café to continue her shift, leaving him alone with the bloody towels.

Lost in his thoughts, Joly gathered the stained towels and rummaged around the cleaning supplies for bleach.

A text vibrated and he extracted his phone from his back pocket.

**Coffee in 20?**

Without hesitation Joly answered and waited for Grantaire to message him a location.

As much as he loved his Les Amis family, his friendship with Grantaire was unique. They'd wandered in and out of each other's lives for years and been through a fair amount of shit together.

**Meet me at the market by Uni?**

Until then, Joly joined his lovers and Eponine in mopping and sweeping up the kitchen.

***

Joly wriggled his nose and fought a sneeze in the charcoal dust that surrounded the table Grantaire had temporarily taken over.

"How much for a drawing?" A quiet snoring answered Joly.

His oldest ami slumped in a plastic chair with his legs propped up on a table and arms crossed over his chest.

"Ahem!" He coughed a few inches away from Grantaire's ear.

Startled the artist whipped off his shades and squinted. "Joly!" He yawned stretching his limbs. "When'd you get here?"

"Now." He shrugged. "Should I have let you sleep?"

For a second Grantaire began to shake his head before rubbing his hands over his face. "Let's say last night was unusually challenging."

"Is Gav still having accidents at night? I can get some rubber sheets from the pediatric ward."

"Thanks" He answered. "But it was 'Ponine."

"She seemed off when I patched her up." He agreed.

Puzzled, Grantaire was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward assertively. "What happened?" He growled.

If Joly had not known his friend, he would have taken his words as threatening. "Accident at work, she cut her arm when she tried to clean up a shattered ceramic bowl. Ep's fine, I cleaned and bandaged the wound and she's back to work."

"I don't know what's with her lately." Grantaire’s voice was disconnected and he seemed to stare through Joly.

Joly fought an impulse to talk to Grantaire about Eponine's past, their past.

Their time with the Thenardiars' had traumatized his friends in ways he couldn't imagine. He had become grateful for his courses that explored PTSD and psychological coping mechanisms.

A couple months ago, Joly had burst into Café Musain and cornered Grantaire (his first mistake). He had word-vomited facts and figures about PTSD and human trafficking survivors until he ran out of breath (his second even bigger mistake).

Grantaire rarely raised his voice, but that night he spun Joly around and pinned him against the wall. "Don't ever mention that again."

Joly's skin had burned and his friend's words reverberated in his ears for days.

"Coffee? The cart around the corner serves the best espresso around here."

The scraping of Grantaire's chair snapped Joly out of his head. "Sure mon ami."

Grantaire may be oblivious, but Joly knew the conversation was far from over.

He’d just have to figure out another way in to the cynic’s mind.

***

With Felix busing tables, Musichetta acting as waitress and Bossuet graciously doing battle with the kitchen, Eponine was left to tend to the register.

After ringing up the lunch rush she gingerly rotated her injured arm. It throbbed a bit, but given the size of the bowl she dropped it could have been a lot worse.

Still her mistake she thought, and another wave of depression and shame rolled over her.

Glancing at the large coffee placed in from of her, Eponine automatically uttered "2.50 si vous plait."

"No lecture today?" The voice made her stomach drop and Eponine froze like a deer in the headlamps of a lorry.


	8. School Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The littlest ami gets in trouble and the most unlikely pairing has to go to school to sort it out. Awkward Enjolras to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of problem solving. Don't forget to let me know what you're thinking. I do take prompts and suggestions.

“N-no.” She stammered.

“How about an apple almond turnover?”

“No, thank you. Just the coffee, and a moment of your time?”

Hesitating Eponine caught Musichetta’s eye. “I can’t. My break’s been used already.”

“Two minutes.” He bargained, reluctantly moving to the side to satisfy the growing line behind him.

“Have a nice day Monsieur.” She smiled, slamming the cash drawer closed a little harder than she meant to.

“Please”

Eponine turned to see Enjolras with his jaw set. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” He glared.

“One more time.” Eponine crossed her arms with difficulty and backed away from the counter to let Musichetta take over the register.

Enjolras’ eyes flashed with anger and perhaps something that resembled respect. “Please.” He asked again.

“Two minutes ‘Chetta?” She asked.

“Sure.” She answered, looking between Enjolras and Eponine.

Eponine led them to a table in the back of the Café and waited until he sat down to join him.

Enjolras fiddled with the tin pitcher of flowers and eyed the table. “Look.” He started “Last night was ah – shocking. I-I didn’t know Grantaire was so open about um.” As Enjolras stumbled over his words Eponine took pity on the man.

His marble exterior had cracked and beneath it laid a person, with emotions and everything. Perhaps he had a heart too if they were lucky.

“About that.” Eponine cut in. “Maybe I shouldn’t have-“

“Well” Enjolras tried to continue. Both young adults eyed each other and Eponine leaned away from the table.

“The revolutionary and the hood rat.” She mused. “Backing down and apologizing isn’t a strong suit of ours is it?”

Smirking Enjolras nodded. “Usually speaking comes naturally, but honestly you scare the shit out of me.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.” Eponine smiled sweetly.

“The truth is that I care about Grantaire. A lot.” He sighed and avoided her eye. “You were right the other night. I do need to get off of my er-arse.” His cheeks reddened.

Bringing a hand to his chin Enjolras raised an eyebrow “Am I winning you over yet?”

Ah. Brutal honesty. Eponine worked to suppress a smile. “You’re getting there.”

Musichetta padded over with a plate of apple streusel bar cookies and mouthed “You okay?” to Eponine through a curtain of curly hair.

She signed, “okay” as Musichetta set the plate of baked goods in the middle of the table.

After exchanging pleasantries with Enjolras, she hurriedly returned to the counter where a small line had formed and Felix was anxiously tugging at his hair.

“So, do I have to give you the don’t-fuck-with-my-brother-or-I’ll-kill-you-and-shove-your-balls-up-your-arse speech?” Eponine asked choosing a cookie from the pile.

Raising an eyebrow Enjolras answered “Do you really want to go there?”

“I am shocked. Did Enjolras, the famed marble virgin make a sexual innuendo?”

“There is a lot you have to learn about me darling.” He purred. “God, how do guys flirt with girls, I can barely flirt with my gender.”

Bursting out in a fit of laughter Eponine tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “For an oblivious leader of the people who screws my roommate, I kind of like you.”

“Thanks, I think?” Enjolras smiled.

“Don’t leave okay?” Her eyes darkened and Enjolras could almost swear a storm was brewing behind them. “We, ah, Gav, Grantaire and I. The past is the past, but it haunts us. We’ve done a lot that we are not proud of, but…we had to. To survive. Look, I know I’m rambling. The point is, if you aren’t going to stick around through all of his shit, then cut ties now and leave him alone.”

Enjolras put his elbows on the table and bent his head forward to grasp the back of his neck.

Eponine flinched and drew back, expecting to be hit. “I’m sorry.” She breathed, barely aware that her hands had moved to her ribs.

“Eponine. You and Grantaire have undoubtedly heard hundreds of promises over the years and been disappointed even more. My words won’t carry weight with you, that much I know. I intend to prove how serious I am about Grantaire, and our future. You and Gavroche…you are his family and I know I’m a stranger in your eyes, but I would like the honor of being your friend. I am willing to work to earn that trust.” He finished, a bit out of breath.

Every cell in her body wanted to scream “NO” and propel her out of the café and in to the familiar streets of Paris. She had escaped with Grantaire and managed to keep Gavroche in her life. This was as good as it got for her. To ask for more, to think, to wish for anything else was tempting God to shit all over everything they had worked so hard for. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and all she could manage was a nod and warped smile.

“Ep!” Musichetta called from the counter. “Eponine, Gav’s school is on the phone.”

“Fuck” Her heart in her throat, Eponine ran to Musichetta bending over the counter to grab the phone.

“Hello?” She answered breathlessly.

“Yes, this is she. I am his guardian.”

Biting her lip, Musichetta handed slid a pad and pen in her direction.

“Great.” She muttered. “Of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you.” She finished, rubbing her forehead.

“Is everything alright ‘Ponine?” Enjolras’ smooth voice asked.

Jumping up, she turned around to the statue himself with his lips tugged in to a frown. “Fine. No…well. Actually, I have to get to Gav’s school. Evidently he’s got in to a fight and they want to talk to his guardian.”

“I’ll drive. Where’s the school?” Enjolras directed, taking her arm.

“What?”

“Let’s go. Where’s the school?”

“14 blocks west of here, it’s near the new dog park by the fancy fuckers apartment complex.”

With a wave of her hand, Eponine tossed her apron to ‘Chetta who caught it and handed Eponine her coat, scarf and keys.

Dropping the keys in her bag, she looked at Enjolras with wonder.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m proving it.” He said with a shrug as he fished a set of keys out of his pocket.

***

“God, I hope they don’t suspend him again.”

“What’s that?” Enjolras asked.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t know I said that aloud.” Eponine apologized.

“Well, I am pre-law in case the littlest ami needs representation.”

She snorted at that. “Would he be your first case?”

“First real one? Yes. Last fall, Combeferre and Bahorel were arrested at a protest and I managed to talk the guard in to issuing warnings. All as an undergrad.”

“Ooh, big talk.” She teased.

“Yeah. I nearly pissed myself when the head inspector threatened to call my supervisor.”

He laughed at the memory, switched the engine off and unlocked the doors. “Do you want me to come with you?” He asked softly.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Eponine adjusted the grip on her bag and hesitantly nodded. “Sure. Uh, the last time I had a meeting here Gav ran out of the office and messed with the intercom system. Maybe you could keep an eye on him? H-he looks up to you.”

A few minutes later, they were seated outside the Principal’s office.

“Calm down.” Waiting for a break in her jittering Enjolras attempted to touch her leg.

“Why is he in the nurse’s office? What if someone beat him up? Grantaire wanted to teach him how to fight, but I refused.” Her leg double-timed it and Enjolras grabbed her shoulders.

She grabbed his wrists reflexively and inhaled sharply. “Eponine. Take a breath. Everything will be all right. Let’s take this one step at a time. And try not to attack Principal Gallet. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Alright.” Get a hold of yourself ‘Ponine. Just breath, she thought.

“Ms. Thenardiar?” A soprano chirped.

“Uh huh.” She swallowed gripping the arms of the chair and turning towards the main office.

Before her and Enjolras stood a guilty and clearly fuming Gavroche.

The nurse had a hand firmly holding his shoulder.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Eponine found herself holding her little brother’s chin and twisting his head.

“Fuck-all Gav.” His left cheek was puffy and purple-tinged, the beginnings of a wicked bruise forming.

“What’s under that?” She asked, tenderly fingering the gauze bandage under Gavroche’s greasy hair.

“Nothing.” He insisted, pulling away from his sister with a stiff lip.

The nurse nodded curtly and released her grip on Gavroche. “You might want to put some ice on his eye when you get home. Principal Gallet should be with you shortly.”

“Merci Madame.” Eponine thanked, shaking the kindhearted woman’s hand.

“Hey there Gav.”

“Enjolras?” The uninjured parts of Gavroche’s face brightened as Eponine pulled him onto her lap.

“Bahorel is going to be impressed with that eye mon ami.” A murderous look from Eponine told him that was the wrong response.

Quickly he searched for a parental sounding amendment to his statement, but a heavyset middle-aged man he assumed to be Monsieur Gallet opened the office door and motioned for them to enter.

“Come on buddy.” Eponine heaved as she lifted Gavroche to his feet and pushed him ahead of her.

Once they were seated, Principal Gallet frowned and recounted the incident. “In light of the violent conflict, we have no choice but to suspend Gavroche and Antoine for the remainder of the week.”

“It’s Tuesday.” Eponine said quietly, feeling her chest tighten.

Nodding in affirmation Monsieur Gallet continued. “Once they return, they will attend morning detentions for the entire month of November. Ms. Thenardiar, I have to inform you that if there is another incident this quarter, we will have to inform social services about Gavroche’s disciplinary record.”

Her face flamed, and Enjolras recognized the signs of an impending eruption. “Thank you Principal Gallet. We’ll be on our way monsieur. There will be no more trouble, right Gav?” He interjected, rising and affectionately squeezing Gavroche’s shoulder.

***

Eponine fumed and sputtered for most of the way back to the flat. Gavroche spent the drive buckling and unbuckling his seatbelt.

At a red light, Enjolras stealthily texted Grantaire trying to simultaneously conceal and convey his fear over dealing with the siblings on his own.


	9. Smoke and Eggs

“Oy, Gav!” Eponine yelped as the door threatened to close on her injured hand. 

Quickly she thrust her body between the door and its’ frame and kicked up a leg to prop it open. 

“Can I help?” 

Closing her eyes Eponine counted to five before dropping her bag and Gav’s pack on the floor and facing the door. 

“Enjolras. Thanks for the ride and help at Gavroche’s school, but I’ve got it from here.” 

“All right then? I could ah help with lunch.” He offered lamely. 

Grantaire had commanded him to stay with Eponine and her brother until he got there. He was closer to the University though, and midday traffic would be chaotic, even though he would be cycling. 

“Lunch? Eponine scoffed. Bending over, she tugged at the zipper on her little brother’s backpack. “If I’ve any luck today, ‘Roche’s lunch is still in here. And I’m not hungry, Musichetta force-fed me pastries and muffins after the incident in the kitchen. Joly said something about replenishing my blood supply…”

Trailing off, Eponine extracted a grungy stuffed bear that looked as if it’d been through several tours in war-zones. 

“Damn” She swore, pushing her hair back, Eponine knocked on a door childishly labeled “Keep AWAY” and entered a couple seconds later leaving Enjolras standing awkwardly by the counter. 

***

“Gav?” She called gently, summoning all of her bruised motherly instincts.   
He did not answer, but Eponine saw the ratty blanket shuffle around on the mattress. 

“May I join you?” She asked, contemplating knocking on the fabricated tent. 

The blanket lifted a few inches and Eponine crawled onto the mattress beside her brother and extended the tent.   
She fiddled with the stuffed toy before planting it in her lap. 

“So, Quincy went to school today huh?” 

Nodding at his folded legs, the boy refused to look at Eponine. 

“Did he help?” She asked, patting the old bear on the head. 

Another quick jerk of Gav’s head confirmed it. 

“I’m not mad.” She started, plucking Quincy up and placing him in front of her. She held his fluffy hand in hers and rubbed the fur. “I just want to understand, yeah?” 

A few moments passed in silence until Gavroche sniffled and wiped his hand under his nose. 

“Antoine called me a pussy when he went into the closet and saw ‘im in my pack.” He signed, squirming under the confession. 

“Names don’t mean anything Gav. Our name, no matter what people call us or think it means doesn’t define us. We are better than that.” 

“I don’t care what they call me.” He returned stubbornly. 

“Your shiner and bandage beg to differ.” She shot back. 

A moment later, he began to cry. Not openly, just a few tears that leaked out and ran down the length of his nose. 

“Shit.” Eponine cursed. Her mothering skills were worse then she assumed. “Gav, I’m sorry. Please.” She wrung her hands, anxious to touch him. 

“’Ponine! H-he was spewing shit ‘bout you and ‘Taire. What you both do.”   
Eponine lost feeling in her hands and forgot to breath. 

“He said you’re a whore. And ‘Taire sells…” Rage radiated from his small frame and little hands balled in to fists at his sides. 

“Gavroche…” She began, a centimeter away from the truth, as ugly as it was. 

“So, I hit him. Like I’d seen at Bahorel and Courfeyrac’s party. And at the Inn.” His voice dipped when he mentioned their former home and Eponine couldn’t blame him. 

When they’d finally left, Gavroche had been found severely malnourished and developmentally delayed. One of Joly’s clinic connections had convinced a physician to see to the trio for a bargain price and the littlest Ami had been in grave danger. All of the Amis had pitched in time, food and affection. Within the year Gav had gained weight and a couple inches in addition to a new family. 

The evidence before Eponine proved that not all wounds were easily mended. 

“Ah. Well, you know why you and Antoine got in trouble then.” She stuttered. “You’ve got a nasty mark though.” Lifting her hand to his face. 

Tilting his head towards her Gavroche agreed. “He takes martial arts at the community center.” 

“Aren’t you lucky to have three karate teachers to his one?” Eponine smiled, poking her sibling in the chest. 

“Really? Imma ask Grantaire tonight! Do ya think Bahorel and Feuilly will be at the meeting tomorrow?” He bubbled excitedly, all traces of anger, worry and fear erased from his countenance. 

“Buddy? Let’s get out of here. It’s getting a bit hot.” 

Gavroche yanked the blanket above his head and bounced up from the makeshift bed leaving Eponine tangled in the worn blanket. 

“Hey, Gav! Wait a second.” Ditching the blanket, she called him over from the window. “Could you tell me something, why did Quincy go with you to school today?” 

He shrugged and tried to turn towards the window. A bird caught his attention and he took the opportunity to turn away from her again.   
In the silence, Eponine had her reason. With a hurried peck on his cheek, she let him alone. 

***

Time. Cosette had prescribed time. Under guise of a hypothetical patient, the undergrad had picked her father’s psychiatrist brain about Gavroche (ahem, a child survivor of domestic abuse). 

In the months that followed their liberation from the Thenardiars, Gavroche had begun wetting the bed, lashing out at fellow students and depicting violent scenes during free time and art periods at school. Eponine had been desperate enough to ask Les Amis for help after a particularly heated meeting with the district psychologist who threatened social services. 

As a psychology student, Cosette offered textbook answers and gleaned the rest from her father’s expertise. For now, it seemed that Gavroche needed continuity, safety, time and space. 

These needs ranged from improbable to damn near impossible to fulfill. Each failure enlarged the crack in Eponine’s wall. What would happen when her armor fell apart? Would she fall with it? 

***

Wrinkling her nose at smoke Eponine waved the air around her face, trying to clear the scent. The closer she came to the kitchen, the thicker it became. 

“Enjolras?!” She yelled, smoke stinging her eyes. Quickly she located the fire extinguisher and aimed it at the stovetop. “Step back!” She ordered. 

Once she was positive the flames were out, Eponine moved towards the windows and Enjolras followed suit. 

“This one’s stuck.” She grimaced, hitting the pane in frustration. 

“Here.” Enjolras offered, applying one hand above and below the glass before shoving it open in one fluid motion. 

“It’s like breathing a peppermint.” Eponine mused, her skin turning to goose pimples in the frigid air. 

“Or toothpaste” He smiled taking gulps of the fresh air.

“So, what exactly were you trying to do?” 

“Ah. I wanted to help. So I tried to make lunch.” 

“With what?!” Eponine exclaimed. “Grantaire was supposed to go grocery shopping over the weekend. You must not ‘ave had much to work with.” 

Blushing, Enjolras explained. “I used one of those cook-with-what’s-in-your-kitchen-apps. It told me to make omelets.” 

“Ah. We’re not that fancy…and Grantaire is the only one brave enough to use the burners. The gas isn’t reliable.” 

“Really.” Enjolras deadpanned. Which earned him another smile from Eponine. 

“What the FUCK?” 

Eponine jumped smacking her head on the windowpane as she pulled herself back in to the apartment. Enjolras took care to duck and joined her. 

Using a dishtowel Grantaire was examining the charred remains of Enjolras’ cooking experiment. 

“Gourmet isn’t it?” Eponine teased, attempting to break the tension and prove that everything was fine. 

Dropping the pan back on the burner, Grantaire took in his roommate and Enjolras standing by the ratty sofa. One of who looked tired and sported a new bandage. While the other appeared suspiciously guilty and sheepishly met his gaze. 

“Gav?” He asked, drawing Eponine in to a hug. 

“He’s fine, sitting in his room. Well, he’s been suspended, but I’ll explain later.” She gestured, waving her injured hand. 

“You’re bleeding through.” Grantaire noted, catching her arm and turning it gently. 

“Where do you keep the aid kit?” 

Grantaire’s head snapped towards Enjolras and he blinked. God, how could he forget he was there? Even in the smoky apartment, he was beautiful. Once his heart stopped hammering in his ears, and Grantaire believed no one was in danger he was filled with Enjolras’ presence. 

“On the shelf above the toilet” He answered, pointing towards the loo. 

Eponine and Grantaire moved to the couch and he began to unwrap Joly’s professional grade work. 

“Are you alright?” His voice low. 

“We’ll talk later yeah?” She forced a smile. “Let’s focus on getting your status upgraded from fuck-buddy to boyfriend.” 

“Shut it.” Grantaire returned, yanking the last of the elastic wrap away from the gauze.   
“Ow!” She yelped, pulling her arm towards her body. 

“Here.” Enjolras set the kit on the refurbished trunk that doubled as a table. 

“Thanks.” He nodded. 

The boys stared at each other for a second too long past friendship and Eponine rolled her eyes. 

“Okay. If I could leave you two buggers alone to talk I would. But since I am tethered to my darling ‘Taire, I can’t. So here it is.” 

Grantaire took the pause in her speech to telepathically tell her to SHUT THE HELL UP.   
Enjolras sank to the floor, panic heating his ears and face preparing him for this conversation. 

“This afternoon Enjolras caught me at work, and we talked about you. Don’t you feel special? Anyway, it is clear that you both care for each other. Dare I say even love?” 

Grantaire cringed, but held his breath. 

“Just make it official and date each other already. ‘Taire, after today Enjolras has seen our brand of chaos and he didn’t run. In fact, the bastard took on the stovetop. That takes balls and so does dating, but you both have plenty.” She ended with a wink and wicked grin. 

“You took on the burner huh?” Grantaire asked, sliding to the floor. 

Enjolras nodded and bit his lip. “I…” 

“Shut it.” Grantaire whispered, sealing Enjolras’ mouth with a kiss. 

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras breathed. “Should’ve told you how much I love you from the beginning.” Grantaire answered him with a harder kiss and a promise. 

“Lover-boys, I assume this means you are dating.” 

They broke apart and nodded to each other before Grantaire flipped off his best friend. 

“Yes.” Enjolras laughed. “Does that make you happy?” 

“It’s about damn time.” Eponine barked. “Shit.” She frowned, watching her blood stain more of the white gauze. 

“Com’ere.” Grantaire clucked. “Enjolras, can you get some butterfly bandages open?” 

“Are your hands clean?” She winced as he peeled the remaining gauze and closures away. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“So, are you two going on a hot date tonight?” She asked Enjolras eagerly. 

“Well, I was planning on cooking a romantic dinner, but you saw how well that my practice meal turned out.” 

Eponine laughed. “Perhaps you should venture out for food, or stick to microwave cooking.” 

“Trust me Ep, I would forget to eat if Combeferre didn’t remind me. Instant food or ordering in comprises my culinary talents.” 

“Speaking of food, do we have lunch?” Grantaire spoke up, patting his stomach. 

“Well, Gav has peanut butter on half a folded piece of bread and one of Cosette’s cookies from his school lunch.” 

“Ah, anything except eggs works for me.” Enjolras piped up. 

“Right. Let’s go pick something up before I have to work.” Grantaire nodded at Enjolras, who stood. 

“Do you have a preference hun?” He asked Eponine. 

“Nah. Whatever you two feel like ‘Taire.” 

As soon as the door closed, Enjolras pushed Grantaire against the wall and pressed their bodies together. He responded by biting Enjolras lip and grasping his hips. They moved together, already intimately familiar with each other’s preferences. 

“Oy! There is a child in here and we can hear you making out!” Eponine’s yell was accompanied by Gavroche’s laugh. 

Laughing, Enjolras released him and they thundered down the rickety stairs. Grantaire laced their fingers and Enjolras tightened his grip, grateful to have his phantom limb back.


	10. Laundry Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine and Jehan bond over laundry. Gavroche and Courfeyrac are at about the same maturity level, so they have a playdate of sorts. There is so minor angst at the end of the chapter for Grantaire.

Sighing with content, Eponine patted her slightly swollen stomach.   
Grantaire burped loudly and fell back against his boyfriend who was still slowly eating the second half of his sandwich.

Swallowing Enjolras looked up. “Was there a race I didn’t know about?” 

“Nah, we just…” She started, absently playing with her hair. 

“Yeah. And you lost leader boy.” Grantaire interrupted, leaning in to steal a bite. 

“Hey!” Feigning annoyance, Enjolras tugged his sandwich away before making airplane noises and moving it in front of Grantaire’s face like a prize to be caught. 

“If you fancy losing a finger, keep that up.” Eponine warned. “Right Gav?” She asked, ruffling the boy’s hair. 

He sat on the floor with his back to the sofa folding the piece of foil his lunch had been wrapped in.   
At Eponine’s touch he startled, but did not make a sound.   
She frowned and played with his hair, trying to summon magic words that could assuage his angst. 

“Right. Ep, we’re going to head out.” Grantaire flicked his unruly mop of hair towards the door. 

After a quick look at the time Eponine pushed herself up. “Shit. Of course, are you going to make it?” 

“Enjolras offered to drive me.” He smiled, handing his boyfriend his messenger bag and coat. 

“Alright.” Unsure of the proper etiquette, she picked her way over and awkwardly opened her arms. “Friends now?” She asked in front of Enjolras. 

“Amis.” He agreed, enveloping her in a gentle quick embrace. 

While the trio stood, Grantaire glanced over at Gavroche and his wrapper.   
“We’ll talk later yeah?” He confirmed with Eponine, trying to convey his concern.

“Yeah. Try to bring back some dinner for him? He barely touched his packed lunch.”

“I’ll see what I can smuggle out.” He agreed, jamming a beanie over his curls. 

“Toilet paper!” Eponine called as the door closed. 

***

5 blocks, 2 hampers, 1 hour and several minutes’ later two red-faced thoroughly frozen siblings arrived at Jehan and Courfrayac’s flat. 

“Bonjour!” Eponine greeted, gently prodding Gavroche through the threshold before lugging her person and laundry in.

“We come bearing a shit-ton of stinky presents.” She joked, unloading Gavroche. 

“Oy! Are you a pack-mule now ‘Roche?” A jovial voice burst. 

“Only ‘cause he’s strong and sturdy, right petit homme?” Eponine smiled as she took the detergent out of his hands and helped him slip off his backpack. “Why don’t you go play with ‘Fra?” 

Jehan watched his boyfriend coax the boy in to a high five and lead him in to the spare room (also known as Courfrayac’s adult play room). 

“He’s not talking today Ep?” The poet asked, helping her empty the laundry baskets. 

The first time Eponine had done laundry at their flat, she’d thrown the whole enchilada in at once, ashamed and afraid to ask to run another cycle. He’d been horrified and patiently taught her the merits of separating colors and utilizing color safe bleach. 

Now they sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor making piles. 

“Fuck. I think I need to run at least 2 today. Is that alright?” 

“Of course, how are we separating?” 

Blushing Eponine shook her head. “I haven’t done laundry in 3 weeks. Gavroche and Grantaire need their own pile for…should-have-been-pitched-but-we-can’t-afford-to-lose-layers-this-time-of-year.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Jehan nodded hesitantly. “Well. How do I know which is which?” 

“Good question. See this?” Pawing through the pile, she withdrew a shirt. “The seam’s been re-sewn. That’s mine. I-I haven’t had a chance to industrialize the boy’s clothes yet. There will be more holes and ah…the smell should put you off.” 

“Aha.” Jehan delicately held a pair of Gavroche’s jeans away from his nose. “These definitely belong there.” With a toss he attempted to land the rank pants in the washer above his head. 

“A sportsman you are not.” Eponine teased. 

“I wouldn’t mind wearing polo clothes or a cricket uniform.” He smiled, pretending to swing a bat. 

They settled in to a comfortable silence when Eponine gasped. “I have a tidbit for you.” 

“Oh yeah?” He dared.   
“Don’t sass me monsieur. It has to do with your beloved couple de impossible.” She purred.   
“Out with it!” Jehan cried, accidentally hugging a dirty bath towel to his chest. 

Smiling coyly, Eponine crawled closer to her friend. “Alright. Enjolras asked Grantaire to be his BOYFRIEND.” 

“AHHH!” 

***

“Wonder what they’re on about.” Courfeyrac mumbled, glancing at the door. “Ahh, fuck!” 

“Shoulda kept your eyes on the road prick.” Gavroche smiled. His tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Watch and learn dude.” He threatened, leaning towards the screen. “Oy! Where’d you get that bomb. Bollocks.”

Silence ensued and Courfeyrac tossed the controller in front of his chair before stretching and standing. 

“I’m gonna go spy monkey-boy. Want anything to eat?” 

“Non.” He answered quickly. 

Leaving the door ajar behind him, Courfeyrac joined the independent dance party his boyfriend and best girl initiated. 

“What are we celebrating?!” He yelled, spinning in to a pirouette. 

“THEY’RE DATING!” Jehan exclaimed, miming a tap number worthy of Fred and Ginger’s criticism. 

“NO!” He gaped. “Honestly?” 

Sweeping her hair off her forehead, Eponine nodded. “It’s official. Enjolras is part of the…ah.” She hesitated then frowned. 

“Circus?” Courfeyrac suggested, pulling Jehan into a waltz. 

Eponine turned her attention to the washing machine and laughed when the couple ended up on the floor after a badly attempted dip. 

“Done with the dance party already?” She teased, adding a capful of detergent. 

“Where’s the ice?” Courfeyrac grumbled, pressing a hand to his ribcage. 

Wincing, Jehan rubbed his back. “I don’t believe I am meant to bend that way.” 

“That’s what she said.” Courfeyrac winked. A fellow theater student had introduced him to the American version of “The Office” and the Amis could throttle her with gratitude if given the chance. 

“Don’t let Joly see you freaking out, both of you will wind up in the emergency center.” Eponine warned, leaning against the vibrating washer. 

“Touche.” Wrapping an arm around his lover, Jehan nestled against their futon. 

“So, someone better give me the details. Leave nothing out, I need all the ammunition I can get.” 

“Alright.” Eponine smiled, and relocated to the futon. “He came to ‘Chetta’s…” 

***  
Three hours, several orange sodas for Gavroche, two bins full of clean laundry, and a flurry of hugs and kisses later, they boys found their studio apartment oddly quiet. 

A couple blocks south, Eponine found her flat in a similar state. Gavroche hadn’t said a word during the commute and dutifully did everything she’d asked of him, even holding the door open for her. 

“Hey Gav, can you grab the laptop from Grantaire’s room?” 

Without a word, he retrieved it and set it on the makeshift coffee table by the couch. 

“Com’ere.” She asked, patting the space next to her on the fuzzy cushion. “Let’s watch some Sherlock alright.” 

As they watched Sherlock take London by storm, Gavroche settled against her chest. He played with her fingers, a habit leftover from early childhood. When John stood trapped by Moriarty with a bomb strapped to his person, Eponine ran her fingers through her little brother’s hair and squeezed him gently. 

After the one with “the bastard hounds” which he loved, but Eponine hated, she noticed that he’d fallen asleep. Gav’s thumb hung loosely in his mouth and she just finished extracting herself when the door unlocked. 

“Shh.” She gestured with a finger to her lips. Grantaire nodded and watched her cover Gavroche with an old throw. 

“Hey, how was work?” She asked, peering in to the fridge for beverages. 

“Eh.” He shrugged. “A prissy bitch refused this chicken parm ‘cus the meat looked pink. Feuilly saved it…and here’s dinner.” 

“Damn!” She nodded appreciatively, and settled on orange juice that was only two weeks past the expiration date. 

They leaned over the micro counter taking turns chugging the juice and twirling pasta in comfortable silence until Grantaire’s phone vibrated. 

“Monsieur missing you already?” 

A stony look told her otherwise, but Eponine pressed on. 

“Ooh. A secret.” She purred. 

“Shut it. Enjolras has an exam tomorrow he’s got to study for. Some art history course he’s been forced in to taking by Jehan.” 

“Ah.” Poking at the barely cooked chicken she paused. “Do you regret it?” 

The stolen dinner sat uncomfortably in his stomach. “What?” 

“Not going.” 

“Enough.” 

“Lamarque found the scholarships, and you are incredible. ‘Taire, you can-” 

“Enough!” Slamming his hands on the table, Grantaire grabbed his coat and without warning found him-self blinking in the ill-lit street in front of their flat. 

His shaking hands lit a cigarette and he let his feet lead the way. The frigid air and smoke invigorated his mind and made him bolder. Fingers flew over letters in a message. With a satisfied swallow, Grantaire stuffed the phone in his pocket and hopped on a University sanctioned bus.


	11. A Special Kind of Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major trigger warning for flashback of graphic injuries due to abuse and assault. Like before the flashback will be in italics. Safe reading!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Eponine cursed, clutching at her scalp.

Why did she mention art school? Fuck.

Had this conversation ended well the last time she’d brought it up?

No. Grantaire had ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

Glancing at Gavroche she let her coat and purse fall from her hands. He couldn’t be left alone.

Well, neither of them could…but splitting herself in two was not an option.

Where are you? Pushing Gavroche’s hair off of his forehead, Eponine frowned at her phone and tapped out another text.

**I am sorry.**

With her little brother settled on the toddler mattress in their room, she quietly shut the door.

A couple weeks worth of messes twisted the guilty knife in her side, but Eponine sank to the floor in front of the couch.

Scrolling through her contacts, she swallowed her pride and fired off a text to Joly.

Tapping the enter key, Eponine waited for the laptop to wake up.

Flicking off the lamp, the screen blinked to life. This fine piece of hand-me-down electronics had been their first luxury purchase. He’d surprised her in July during a particularly awful heat wave.

Succinct vibrations in her lap tugged Eponine’s attention to her phone.

“Hello?” She answered eagerly, hoping Grantaire’s rough voice would greet her.

“What happened?” Joly demanded.

Standing Eponine pressed a hand to her head. “I messed up Joly. I really fucked it up.”

“Baby, take a breath. Where is Grantaire?”

“He’s gone. Art school came up. I-I don’t know where he went.”

Joly drew a sharp breath. “How long ago?” He demanded. “Almost an hour now.”

Eponine closed her eyes and heard shuffling and Joly’s hurried explanations to his lovers through the phone. “Give me 10 minutes, do you want decaf or regular?”

“Regular please.” She sighed.

“Grantaire brought home leftovers from work. See you soon.” Quickly she donned one of Grantaire’s ratty jumpers and wrangled her hair in to a messy bun.

In familiar haste, she straightened up the living common room and kitchen. This consisted of shoving their shit in to the bedrooms and under the sofa, but who had the time or supplies for actual cleaning? Eponine certainly didn’t.

She’d just extracted the last cheese curl from the worn sofa before Joly’s signature knock registered. “Coming!” She called automatically, mentally kicking herself once she remembered who was sleeping only a few yards away.

Pulling the door open Joly’s solemn face, pink with cold smiled tensely. “Hey, I brought hot cocoa for Gav too. Here.” He offered.

“Thanks love.” Popping the lid, she inhaled deeply. “Coffee is the nectar of the Gods.”

“Enjolras would agree with you.” Moving to the couch, Joly removed his knapsack and dug around for a laptop and dog-eared notebook.

“Should we start with the usual suspects?” Eponine asked, extracting a pen from her bun.

Nodding Joly ripped out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table. “I’ll start with Bahorel, Feuilly and some of the other Amis. Do you want to call the old hangouts?”

“Alright.” Downing as much of the searing liquid as she could, Eponine squared her shoulders and began to dial familiar numbers.

***

“Who the fuck is calling you?” Grantaire growled, biting Enjolras’ neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” He answered, relieving Grantaire of his shirt.

Enjolras wove their fingers together and pushed Grantaire against the futon.

“Sure about that?” Grantaire arched his back as Enjolras pressed his body to his.

“None of the Amis are going to contact me tonight. I’m supposed to be studying remember?” Enjolras whispered, silencing his boyfriend with a kiss.

***

“No luck?” Joly asked, draining the last of his tea from the take-away cup.

Lifting her head from her hands, Eponine squinted at him. “What gave it away?”

“Caffeine gives you the same frustrated, frazzled, hyper energy that Enjolras gets after too much coffee.” He shrugged.

Nodding, she scooted closer to Joly and drew her knees to her chest. “What should we do now?”

“Wait a couple hours and see if he to contacts anyone?” He asked. Eponine was the real boss.

Any decisions regarding her boys went though her. Their three-person family was more efficient and closer than most nuclear families Joly knew.

“Alright.” She agrees after a long look at the door to Gavroche’s bedroom. “It’s all my fault.”

“What happened ‘Ponine? It’s not like you two to fight.”

Pulling her arms around her middle Eponine set her chin between her knees. “Maybe I was in mama tiger mode from dealing with Gavroche. From the moment the take-away food was opened, he was on edge. I shouldn’t have pushed him. Then he got a text from someone…probably Enjolras. I kept talking, asking if he regretted not taking the scholarships and running off in to a new life.”

“Oh Ep…” Joly sighed.

“He’s always taken care of me…of us. All I want to do is make sure he is all right. Grantaire always scrapes by. He’s sacrificed himself time and time again to keep me safe.”

Admiration brightened her face and Joly offered a small smile.

“One day, he’s going to look around this hovel and realize he could have a life. A real one, with a good guy like Enjolras and be a famous artist selling his work before he dies. Not like that Van Gogh.”

She laughed and a few tears collected in her eyes. “He’ll leave and be great. I know he can be great.”

Biting her lip, Eponine glanced at the couch. “If he drinks again. It’s all my fault.” She choked out, crying in earnest now.

“Shh.” Joly reached for her, taking care to approach slowly. “If, if Grantaire relapses…you are not at fault. I promise.”

He felt her stiffen against his chest. “Don’t lie to me Joly.” She murmured. Kissing her head, he rested his chin on her braided crown. “Never. Remember? I’ll never lie to you.” Joly felt her breathing even and body gradually relax cell by cell.

He waited patiently, holding her loosely until she asked if they could lie down. With one hand on his chest, Eponine closed her eyes.

Focusing on the quiet, Joly willed Grantaire to be okay. Eponine’s concern radiated like heat from her body, and he found himself remembering the first time he’d been tempted to lie to his friends. Halloween – 2018

_“For the love of…” Joly muttered, selecting a highlighter. “Haven’t you heard of quiet hours?” He asked, shaking a fist at the ceiling._

_The even vibrations of a stereo answered him, and Joly pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration._

_Muffled screams and worried voices permeated the cheap door._

_T_ _he volume increased in the hallway until he stood and heard thunderous frantic knocking._

_Cautiously he cracked the door open and found himself face to face with Grantaire._

_His eyes were wild and had dried blood streaked across his cheek._

_Gasping Joly stepped aside and pulled his ami in to the standard dorm room. “W-what?” He managed, watching Grantaire hug the thin girl tighter to his chest._

_“Grantaire.” He said gently, moving towards him._

_He jerked backwards, bumping in to a dresser. His ami flinched and spun around with fists clenched, ready to fight._

_“Hey, R, it’s me. Take it easy, yeah?” Joly calmly assured, his pre-med training kicking in. “Let’s put her down alright? Nice and easy. That’s it.” He encouraged, bending to the floor in sync with Grantaire._

_“Please save her.” He croaked, rocking back and forth on bent knees. “Should’ve….my fault….” Great sobs shook him and the young lady in his arms moaned at the jarring movement._

_Flicking his eyes to the woman, Joly gently helped Grantaire lower her to the floor and release her body. “What happened?” He asked in shock._

_His fingers moved over her swollen face, littered with bruises and blood. A jagged cut decorated her scalp and matted her hair._

_The familiar face grimaced in pain at Joly’s touch and he quickly withdrew his hand. “E-Eponine.” He whispered disbelievingly._

_Glancing at Grantaire, Joly received a grim nod. “Oh God, no, no.” The student wrung his hands, pacing the width of the room._

_“Please…please help her. Joly, I don’t know w-what to do. It’s never been like this before.” He managed before dissolving in to silent sobs._

_“Grantaire, It’s alright. Just, just help me get her shirt off?” In another circumstance, they would have laughed, the virgin bookworm unsure of how to approach the opposite sex._

_Tonight, Grantaire set his jaw and undid the buttons with shaky fingers. Joly probed her ribs, counting breaks as he went along._

_Every touch sent Eponine writhing in an effort to escape him. Which in turn sent waves of what he was sure to be unbearable agony throughout her broken body._

_“Please, Grantaire I need to know what happened. Every time I try to examine her….I think it’s making her injuries worse.” Joly’s voice broke, and he drew a shaky breath._

_Grantaire caught his friend’s gaze. “Azelma. She protected her biological sister, from being sold tonight.” Joly offered him a damp washcloth and he began to dab at the dried blood caked on her face and chest. “Wouldn’t you know that bastard…” Bitterness dripped from his tongue. “He punished her. All of the Patron-Minette. All five of them, new runner included, maybe her father too I don’t know, they took turns with her. For hours. I don’t know how long she stayed conscious.”_

_His fingers hovered over the lump on her forehead. “Hopefully this knocked her out. How fucked up is that?” He stared at Joly. Joly made a noise at the back of his throat and placed his hand over Grantaire’s._

_Words failed him and couldn’t begin to address the damage tonight caused._

_Quietly, the boys scraped torn clothing and coagulated blood from Eponine’s body. There were more wounds than Joly cared to count. Luckily his first-aid kit was military grade, and contained enough supplies to treat half of Paris. “_

_Shit.” Joly muttered, holding a butterfly bandage in his teeth. “Grantaire I think we need take her to a hospital. She’s bleeding so much. E-everywhere.”_

_Grantaire shook his head vehemently. “No. I p-promised. No way.” His voice rose and he pressed a towel soaked with Eponine’s blood to a wound on her thigh._

_“Oh!” She groaned, twisting away from both boys._

_“Hey, hey. ‘Ponine.” Grantaire loomed over his friend. “Eponine. ‘S all right. We’re safe. It’s over.”_

_“Mmm. Hm.” She garbled, her mouth full of swollen tissue._

_“Honey. Please look at me. It’s all right. Joly is here. I’m here.” Blinking the eye that wasn’t quite swollen shut, Eponine rolled as much of her head as she could to the side and vomited._

_Her body convulsing in pain with each heave of her stomach._

_“Shit. Grantaire, sit her up!”_

_“_ _No. That’ll hurt her!” He argued._

_“If she aspirates, she won’t hurt anymore ‘cus she’ll be dead.” The student snarled._

_Slipping a hand under her neck, Joly motioned for Grantaire to support her back and they lifted her upright. He forced himself to be deaf to her cries and focused on care instead. First aid was all he could offer her. With every bandage and strip of gauze, he imagined his love healing her wounds. He hoped that the anti bacterial cream and rubbing alcohol would keep infections at bay, and allow her peace of mind._

_“No-hmuh-nouh.” Eponine clutched at Grantaire’s jacket, her bruised eyes widening as much as they could._

_“What?” Joly asked, leaning forward._

_“One more time ‘Ponine, try again.” Grantaire asked, tilting his ear towards her._

_“No. No lies. No lies.” Desperate for him to understand, she tugged at the fabric before falling limp in exhaustion._

_She stared at her saviors and leaned against Grantaire with her lip trembling._

_Giving a curt nod to Joly, Grantaire propped her upright. “Alright. Eponine, I think most of your ribs are cracked, broken or bruised. You could probably use stitches in your scalp, but I’m trying to stop the bleeding as much as I can with what I have around.” He gestured at the wrappers and bandages that littered the floor. “Can you tell me what else hurts?” The student probed gently._

_Wincing she turned her head from side to side and pointed to the entire left side of her face. A molted purple pattern had began to bloom and swell. Carefully Joly manipulated the tender skin and guessed that her jaw wasn’t broken only severely bruised._

_Time passed slowly, as Eponine remembered her body and drew attention to the broken pieces with shaking hands and garbled words._

_"Blood.” She said faintly, pointing to the dark stain spreading through her skirt._

_Joly’s heart sank and he swallowed the urge to run away. Rape? Bossuet’s broken fingers he could splint, Musichetta’s burns from work he could treat, migraines that plagued Enjolras were manageable._

_Assault. Beatings within an inch of life were not in his area of expertise. Glancing at Eponine, he noted her pale sweaty skin, glassy eyes and added those symptoms to her steady blood loss._

_“Eponine? I need you to stay awake.” He half-shouted, rubbing her sternum with a fist._

_Grantaire glared at him and tugged her shirt down. “She needs to rest. This always happens,”_

_“_ _No. She will bleed out, I need to put pressure on the wound and we need to get to the hospital immediately.” Joly directed, his heart hammering at this sudden burst of assertiveness._

_Pale, Grantaire nodded at his ami’s declaration. He knew that Joly would never risk emergency care if they didn’t require it. “We need a ride.” Joly mumbled as he wrapped an elastic bandage around Eponine’s pelvis securing the temporary bandage he’s fashioned out of a small towel._

_“Call Courfeyrac.” Grantaire must have hesitated, and before he knew it Joly slapped the phone in his hand, leaving a bloody handprint on his palm. “Now.”_

_Transferring her to Joly’s arms, Grantaire led them out of the dorm and stood in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for Courfeyrac._

_“What’s ‘appening?”_ _Whispered Eponine from within the cocoon of a cheap comforter._

_Joly could feel her bones shivering and shifted her weight so he could hold her closer. “Courfeyrac is picking us up and we are going to hospital. You need stitches ‘Ponine, meds and probably casts. I-I-I can’t fix it this time.”_

_Fear dominated her features. “No lies?”_

_“No lies.” Joly confirmed._

_With her head against his chest, Eponine closed her uninjured eye and sighed. “Take care of ‘Taire. ‘M fine.”_

_Lights blinded him and an engine roared. Grantaire ripped open the back door and ushered Joly behind the driver’s seat. Once tucked in Grantaire held Eponine and hummed soothing melodies._

_Joly absently rubbed her knee through the tacky fabric and attempted to work out how long it would take Courfeyrac to navigate holiday traffic._

_A sea of orange and purple blurred by as their friend sped through intersections._

_“Joly! Either she’s had an accident…or…ah.” Grantaire gave a strangled cry and let the borrowed blanket fall away from her legs._

_The glow of Joly’s phone revealed darkened fabric that he tentatively touched. His fingers came away sticky and to his horror, stained red._

***

“Hmm, babe?” Enjolras felt around the bed fingering sheets still warm from Grantaire’s missing form.

Blinking he saw light from the bathroom door that stood ajar. He smiled and stretched out. Satisfied would be an understatement he mused.

Although he’d been pissed that Grantaire ignored his mass text that demanded no interruptions, he certainly did not feel the same now.

Enjolras yawned happily and scratched his head. “Hey.” Enjolras greeted, rolling on to his side and propping his head up with a hand.

Grantaire’s face darkened at the word, and stood with his phone in his hands.

“What’s going on?” He asked, sitting up.

Grantaire merely shook his head and scrolled through messages, his face unreadable.

Confused, Enjolras closed his hands around his phone and tore his eyes away from Grantaire to unlock it. Fuck. 37 texts. 18 calls.

They varied in urgency and spanned the last few hours. All of them had to do with Grantaire. Apparently he’d gone missing. He swallowed thickly and felt his body burn with adrenaline.

“R. What’s going on?” Enjolras asked again.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Grantaire snapped.

He backed away from the bed and donned his discarded pair of jeans.

“Come here. Where are you going?” Enjolras scooted across the mattress until his feet found the wooden floor.

Tugging on a loop of his boyfriend’s jeans, Enjolras pressed their lips together and asked him to stay.

When they broke apart, Grantaire remained still and Enjolras held his breath waiting for his next move. “No.” The two-lettered word hit Enjolras like a punch to a kidney. He staggered backwards when Grantaire pushed him away.

As if in a trance, he watched Grantaire gather his keys and coat. His hand shook as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Enjolras’ phone vibrated again, and he opened a new text from Joly full of panic and an explanation.

Selecting the familiar number, Enjolras waited for his ami to pick up. “R’s gone. Start at the beginning.” He demanded.

***

Grantaire walked in the shadows of the street lamps.

He left his coat open, welcoming the frozen wind that numbed and stimulated his senses simultaneously.

The place on 57th would be open, but he could get his money’s worth at the establishment off of 2nd and Main St. His throat itched for the familiar burning sensation, but his stomach rebelled at the guilt of relapsing.

Eponine’s face flashed across his memory. She’d stuck to his side when he’d decided to detox last year.

Even when he couldn’t make it to the bathroom, or when he’d taken a knife to their only mattress because the withdrawal induced hallucinations convinced him that spiders were hiding there. Dammit. He was so weak. God, he needed them both. His nails curled against the glass window of the shop and he reached for the door.


	12. The Alley

“Are you still there?” Joly paused, listening to controlled breathing through the phone. 

Eponine hit his arm lightly and held up a scrap of paper. 

“Right. What bars and liquor stores are near you?” He asked, teasing a pen cap off with his teeth. 

“Cheap ones!” Eponine blurted out. 

“Cheap ones. Quality doesn't matter.” He echoed, opening Google maps on the laptop. “Yeah, I’m putting your address in now.” He shifted the screen towards Eponine and watched as she searched the site for familiar shops. 

“Follie’s!” Eponine exclaimed, jamming a finger at the laptop. “They have the cheapest vodka around, he u-used to buy it when…” 

She trailed off and Joly knew what was left unsaid. The last time Grantaire relapsed, he’d wound up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning and hypothermia. 

“You will?” Joly’s voice rose in surprise, but after murmuring thanks, he ended the call. 

Eponine was halfway through buttoning her coat, when Joly’s hand touched her shoulder. 

“Enjolras is on his way to Follie’s. He’ll call if he finds him.” 

She raised an eyebrow and finished dressing. “He doesn’t know how to deal with this.” 

“Gavroche can’t be left alone.” 

“Aren’t you staying with him?”

“No way in hell am I letting you wander the streets of our beloved Paris at this hour.” 

They reached a stalemate and stared at each other until Joly exhaled. “Do you think Courfeyrac and Jehan are up to babysitting?” 

“If they weren’t, they will be.” She smiled, winding a scarf around her neck. “I’ll get Gavroche.” 

A couple minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open and Eponine approached Joly with Gav nestled against her neck. 

***

Joly insisted on carrying him the five blocks to their friend’s flat. Eponine maintained a firm grip of Quincy and her little brother’s favorite blanket as they walked the three flights of stairs. Gavroche’s head rolled off Joly’s shoulder and Eponine motioned for him to let her take over. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, why don’t you run along and knock.” 

Joly bounded ahead leaving the siblings on the second floor landing. 

“Shhh.” She whispered, Gavroche’s unruly hair tickling her chin. His body was warm and heavy in her arms as she carefully ascended the steps. 

Motherhood had been thrown at her, and at times she certainly struggled. However there wasn’t anything, no amount of suspensions, urine-soaked sheets, or bedtime arguments would ever lead her to regret getting custody of Gavroche. Eponine loved him and Grantaire more anything, although she’s never admit it willingly. Those who had emotions and shared them so easily were weak, a target for the world. Despite this belief she fiercely protected both of her brothers, and grew to care about many of the Amis, much to her chagrin. 

“Here you are sweetheart.” Jehan cooed, taking a sleepy Gavroche in his arms. 

Eponine handed Courfeyrac Quincy and the blanket. “Make sure he has these okay? I made sure he went to the bathroom before we left, so he should be alright for a few hours.” 

“Okay. Allons-y little man.” Jehan smoothed the little boy’s hair off of his face and leaned in to plant a kiss on his older sister’s cheek. 

She closed her eyes, and just for a moment allowed herself to feel safe. Jehan was the resident optimist, and often mothered his friends. Sensing her walls come down for a moment, the poet held her face. 

“Ma Cherie, we will deal with whatever happens.” He whispered. Pulling away from her, he addressed Joly “Keep us in the loop alright?” 

Courfeyrac dug his hands in pockets and stared at the floor before finding Eponine. “Let me know what I can do yeah? He’s…ah…” 

The theater major broke off, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Yeah.” Eponine managed. He needed reassurance, but she couldn’t offer any. Jehan slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed. Eponine retreated, shields up and defenses primed. Gavroche was safe, and now it was time to focus on her older brother.

Hazy good byes were said and Eponine didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until an icy wind shocked her back to reality. She gritted her teeth and followed Joly, whose light frame was weaving in the gusts. 

“Wanna split a cab?” He asked, squinting in her general direction. 

“Zoom in on my empty wallet.” Eponine laughed, increasing her steps. Rent was Grantaire’s comfort film. Her heart ached and she tried to see past the guilt that clouded her intended mission. 

“Touche darling.” Joly responded, hunching his shoulders against the chill. 

They traveled in silence, until Eponine tugged him around a corner. 

“Over here, it’s shorter to cut through Rue Addison.” 

“At this hour? You’re fucking insane.” 

“Don’t be a baby.” She teased. “Do you want to carry my taser?” 

“What are you left with?” Raising an eyebrow, Joly accepted the piece of equipment. 

She drew a decently sized knife from the inside of her boot and grinned in its’ metallic reflection. “Just this.” 

Rolling his eyes, he linked arms with her and disappeared in to the dark alley. 

***

God. It had been years since Grantaire prayed. How long? Before he had been thrown in to the foster care system. Those memories were hazy, while his days at the Thenardiars’ Inn burned brightly in his mind. His heart dropped, and for a second he remembered his mother’s embrace. Her warmth, and comfort wrapped around him and held him in suspension of that moment. Whether he’d fabricated this version of a mother, or if it had an element of truth did not matter. 

Two forms staggered through the alley, disrupting cans and trash. He startled, and slammed against the building. Breathing the frigid air seared his lungs and hurled his mind back to reality. 

The bottle hung loosely in his hand, and Grantaire let his head drop between his legs. He knew how to fail. The bar had always been set low for him. His blood abandoned him, teachers gave up on him without a second thought, and he barely held minimum wage jobs. Worthless. 

Once, a year or so ago he’d tried to sell a piece or two at a street fair. No one bought and critics spat aristocratic insults. A masquerade of bullshit Eponine declared, who had been on a Phantom of the Opera kick at the time. She lied of course; he’d never been worthy of truth. 

Relapsing was shit, but it was familiar. The guilt and self hatred bubbled in his gut, ready to spread its’ poison throughout his scarred body. No one needed him. Eponine and Gav would be better off without him. They could get their new beginning. 

He’d die anyway, one way or another. Sirens and the score of the homeless snared his senses and he surrendered himself to the night. 

***

On paper and blogs, Enjolras had declared himself an advocate for the people. 

Yet, as he peeked in to another alley rampant with scents he’d rather not identify the leader came to an important if not embarrassing conclusion. 

He did not understand the people’s plight. Night after night, he talked at the café. He and Les Amis debated politics and argued details of administrative decisions that in reality did not to urge action or impact anyone that these campaigns claimed to help. 

Action, he judged, that was sorely needed. Stepping over a broken crate, Enjolras spotted a mop of ebony hair barely contained by a hooded jumper. The figure had their knees folded to their chest and had a bottle hanging from one hand. 

Tentatively, he approached the man. Enjolras knelt on the dated cobblestones and reached out to touch him. 

Flashes of nightmares and one memorable black eye led him to reevaluate this decision and his hand hovered inches above Grantaire’s shoulder. 

Like in most of his battles, words served as Enjolras’ weapons. Fortunately his arsenal was seasoned and powerful. Yet, anything that came to mind sounded cliché and left a bitter taste on his tongue. 

Grantaire had always been the one to cut through his academic vocabulary. His crude language held an honesty that commanded attention. Enjolras had passion and talent for public speaking, while Grantaire held a jaded reality in perspective. They were perfect opposites. Enjolras’ light to his dark. 

“Grantaire.” 

Bloodshot eyes widened. “Enjolras.” Disbelief clung to his name. “Come to see the peoples living arrangements this side of the city?” He snickered, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes. 

“Shut it.” Enjolras demanded, “You have everyone worried and wound up tighter than Joly during flu season.” 

Closing his eyes, Grantaire attempted a grin. “Now that’s a metaphor worthy of our poet.” 

He heard fingers tapping on a screen and he found Enjolras furiously composing a text. 

“Isn't it a little late for a booty call?” He blurted, loathing himself as the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Is that what you think?” Enjolras gaped. “After all this time?” 

“Just leave.” He choked, pulling his arms tighter around his legs. 

“Grantaire, God.” Lost for words, Enjolras sat next to his boyfriend. There was no space between them as a seam of fabrics and body heat bonded their forms. 

Eventually Grantaire let his head drop against his shoulder and Enjolras reached for his hands. Gently he peeled Grantaire’s fingers away from the bottle one at a time. To his astonishment, the bottle remained sealed.   
Holding Grantaire’s frozen fingers, Enjolras kissed the digits and rubbed his hand until warmth returned. 

For the first time in his life, words had failed him. Like he’d promised Eponine, he would not disappear. He would prove his love for Grantaire every minute of every day. Enjolras tugged on a black curl and pressed his lips to his. He leaned away when he tasted salt and saw tracks of tears along Grantaire’s face. Carefully, Enjolras helped his boyfriend settle in his lap. Thinking back to his childhood and emulating his mother’s tactics, Enjolras rubbed gentle circles on Grantaire’s back and held a hand protectively against his head. 

***

Enjolras stiffened, and Grantaire’s eyes flew open. His face contorted as he tried to identify the forms approaching them. 

“E-Eponine?” The woman looming over him resembled his sister, but the figure practically seethed. Her eyes were wild and her wind-teased hair stuck out from under her hat at odd angles. 

“Who else, you prick?” She shouted, wrapping him in an embrace. 

“Oy Eponine! Can’t breath.” 

“You deserve it! I-I-I.” She stuttered, realizing that her brother was indeed fine…and sober. That meant she owed him an apology, and everyone knew admitting fault was not her strongest suit. 

“R.” She bit her lip, and her cheeks pinked. “About before, it’s my fault. I am sorry.” Eponine drew back, as if expecting a slap. 

Sensing this, Grantaire held his hands out to her. Eponine fell in to his arms, holding on for dear life. With Joly and Enjolras murmuring greetings somewhere above their heads. 

He stroked her hair and rocked while she nuzzled his neck and whispered words that hurt too much to say aloud. 

Two damaged puzzle pieces that against all the odds fit together perfectly. Grantaire had tweaked a metaphor Enjolras coined during a rally, and Eponine believe it suited their lives. 

For years, she operated under the assumption that they were alone. No other pieces survived intact enough to join them. Now Eponine could fathom connections, especially with Les Amis. Joly had always been there, skirting around their universe. Courfeyrac and Jehan had stumbled in to their lives and decided to stick around. After a peek at Grantaire settled securely in Enjolras’ lap, she realized the crisp sturdy edges of the leader’s piece fit nicely in to their world.


	13. Le Petit

“Le petit prince is still asleep…and breathing.” Courfeyrac announced. 

“Bonne!” Jehan yawned, patting the space beside him. “Although I told you Gav doesn’t need to be checked on every quarter hour.” 

Courfeyrac eyed him warily before flopping on to the bed. 

“My dear, Gavroche isn’t a pet.” He started, encouraging his boyfriend to snuggle against his side. “This will not be another Monsieur Le Chat.” 

At the deceased’s name, the student burst in to tears. 

“H-he was the best mouse, a-and I killed him.” 

“Shhh. It’s alright love.” Jehan soothed. He patiently waited until Courfeyrac’s sobs turned in to hiccups. 

Coyly, Jehan peppered him with kisses before moving off the bed. 

“Hey! Not fair.” Courfeyrac pouted, moaning dramatically as he stood to follow his boyfriend. 

As he rounded the corner, he gasped. Jehan stood with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, a spoon, and Season 4 of the Office (US version) that his boyfriend’s schoolmate had lent him. 

“Honestly, how did I manage to find you?” Courfeyrac asked, pressing Jehan and his handfuls of distractions against the fridge. 

“The stars…” Jehan started, a sonnet on the tip of his tongue. 

Courfeyrac swallowed his lover’s words and continued the poem with a few lines of his own. 

***

Repeated vibrations stirred Courfeyrac from a sugar-induced slumber. Carefully extracting his arm from around Jehan’s waist, he answered his phone. 

“Hello?” He yawned. 

“Courf? Is Gav alright?” Words tumbled out of her mouth and assaulted Courfeyrac’s sleep addled ears.   
“Ep?” 

“Who else would it be?!” She shouted. 

He grimaced and held his cell away from his ear. “Oy. Give me a sec would ya?” After a beat he continued. “You alright? How’s Grantaire? Joly and Enjolras are still with you?” 

Eponine paused and there were muffled shuffling sounds on the other line. “Hold on a sec Courf.” 

He impatiently tapped his foot and heard Joly murmuring comforting words to a distraught Grantaire. 

“Another flashback. Sorry.” She drew a breath and adjusted the phone. “Anyway, could you and Jehan keep Gavroche for the night? Things…are a little…intense. I-I don’t want Gav to be around.” 

“Of course ‘Ponine. What else can we do?” 

“Merci Courfeyrac. The guys are walking us back. I don’t know who’s staying over, but I’ll call you in the morning yeah?” 

“Yeah. Take care Ep.” His chest ached, and before he could think his mouth opened. “Love you.” He blurted. 

Eponine inhaled sharply before abruptly ending the call. Guilt warmed her face, but she shook the feelings away. 

“Is Gav okay?” Joly asked, helping Grantaire to stand. 

“Yeah. They are fine with him staying the night.” She smiled, and cupped Grantaire’s cheek. “Let’s go home yeah?” 

He nodded shakily and leaned on Enjolras. 

None of the Amis noticed a bulky shadow trailing behind them as they journeyed towards the tenement. 

***

Eponine brushed a mass of curls off of Grantaire’s forehead and stood. His eyes stared blankly in to the darkness. She left the door partly open and joined the boys in the kitchen alcove. 

“He’s laying down, I don’t think he’s here though.” 

Enjolras gave her a confused look, while Joly nodded and handed her a mug of tea.   
Grasping it, she thanked him and leaned against the counter. 

“So, it’s quarter to 2. Do you both want to stay the night?” 

The students looked at each other. Joly spoke first “Musichetta and Bossuet will miss me, but I’m worried about leaving you and R.” 

Eponine’s heart lurched at her roommate’s old nickname. “We’ll be fine.” She choked out. 

Carefully he watched her expression shift. “Call me. I’ll be up early. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll stop over…without coffee.” 

Smiling, she nodded and pulled him in to an embrace. “Love you.” She whispered in to his neck. “No lie.” 

“No lies.” He replied, kissing the top of her head. 

Clearing his throat, Enjolras grasped the door. “I’ll walk you out Joly.” 

“I’ll get changed, and leave the door unlocked for ya.” Eponine narrated to Enjolras, setting her cup in the sink. “Good night sweetheart.” 

“Night Eponine.” 

Enjolras closed the door gently behind them and Eponine sighed. Grantaire muttered and thumped around the mattress in fevered dreams. Squaring her shoulders, Eponine detached herself and summoned strength to ground her better half. 

***

“Are you going to grab a cab?” Enjolras asked, turning up the collar of his coat. 

With a shake of his head, Joly took a step backwards. “Nah. I fancy a walk after a night like this.”

He nodded and dropped his head in acknowledgement. 

“Are you staying?” The medical student’s question held multiple levels. 

After a moment, Enjolras let his eyes meet his friend’s gaze. “Yeah.” 

Joly opened his mouth to respond, but bit his lip instead. He lifted his arms and drew the leader in to a hug. 

“See you tomorrow morning at Musain. 7?” 

“I’ll be at the usual table.” He confirmed. 

Enjolras shifted his weight and watched Joly disappear around a corner. 

His body vibrated with the adrenaline of the night’s events. His nerves jumped like he’d consumed a few triple shot lattes. 

He’d never seen Grantaire so undone. In the beginning when he and Eponine had begun attending the meetings, he’d attributed the cynic’s attitude to alcohol. From the way Eponine had snarled at him the night before, he’d gleaned that his drinking habit was only the tip of the ice-burg so to speak. There had been a feral protectiveness about Eponine and to a lesser extent Joly, when they’d found him in the alley holding Grantaire. 

It wasn’t that Enjolras didn’t understand secrets or pain. He certainly shouldered his own scars. Grantaire’s history was his to tell. Enjolras decided at the moment to never push him. God, they spent so many nights at each other’s throats playing on arguments and political beliefs. 

Work mattered, of course. His passion lay in law and providing a voice for the people. Love and relationships, as Jehan had often preached held everything together. 

Enjolras turned and began the short trek back to Grantaire’s flat. His senses were blind to reality as his mind churned. 

A sharp pain struck his skull and reality surged around Enjolras for a moment before blackness clouded his vision and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! Read on to see what happens.


	14. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is on for Enjolras. Things usually look better in the morning, perhaps not in this case though...

“Should I even bother asking?” Grantaire groaned rubbing his face. 

“Ah. Nothing too awful.” 

He screwed up his face in concentration. “Joly was here, yeah?” 

Nodding, Eponine chewed a fingernail and waited to see if he would work out what else happened. The string of curses he expelled a moment later answered that particular question. 

“Enjolras.” He winced, burying his face in the mattress. 

She patted his back. “R, he’s fine. Didn’t leave or anything. In fact, he looked rather perturbed when Joly and I found you both in the alley.” 

He gave her a disbelieving look. 

“Honest!” She exclaimed, holding her hands in surrender. 

“Fine. Did he go back to his flat?” Grantaire asked, flipping on to his back. 

Her face brightened and she wagged a finger in his face. “Let me say this. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight…” 

“WHAT.” He exploded, attempting to tame his curls. 

“He walked Joly out. Should be back up any minute.” 

“Yeah?” Grantaire swallowed uneasily. 

“Don’t fret.” She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair before moving into the living room. “And try to remember I can’t afford earplugs yeah?” 

He forced a laugh and gripped his phone contemplating straightening up or brushing his teeth. 

The pills Joly had convinced him to swallow made his limbs heavy. Grantaire’s mind whirred and churned like an ancient computer at the public library. Thoughts washed over his brain in waves and receded too quickly to be processed. 

His lids closed and without his assent, Grantaire’s breathing slowed in to long even breaths. He eased in to a medicated slumber with his head propped up by his hand, waiting for his boyfriend’s return. 

***

“Hullo?” Eponine croaked. 

“Hey. Eponine, er. It’s Combeferre. Enjolras’ flat mate. I think we’ve met a handful of times.” 

His voice was melodic and nearly lulled her back to sleep. “…anyway” He continued. “Ah. Enjolras did not come back last night, and I wanted to remind him that we’ve got a meeting with Joly before lecture at quarter to 8.” 

Eponine stifled a yawn and tried to pay attention to Combeferre. There was something about the way he spoke that made her want to straighten her spine. 

“Right.” She confirmed. Why, she could not say. She wasn’t his freakin’ secretary and had no business keeping her best friend’s lover’s schedule. 

On the other line, Combeferre exhaled. “Look, I can see how strange this whole situation is.” 

Eponine felt herself smirk. Please. He couldn’t be this naïve. Then again to choose Enjolras as a roommate and friend, he must be an idealist. 

“But could you…maybe check and see if he’s there? Or not.” He sputtered. 

“Fine.” She agreed. “Although, if I walk in on anything. You’re to blame. Understood?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um.” 

She’d clearly managed to ruffle the guide’s feathers. For some reason, that made her smile. “Whatever. Hold on a sec.” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she padded in to the Grantaire’s room. 

The sight that greeted her was a familiar one. Bad nights didn’t surprise her anymore. Grantaire was curled against the wall just under the sad excuse for a window. The view was a fifth of sky with a lovely close-up of the rundown factory a meter away. He lay curled in to himself as tight as his spine would allow him to bend. 

A glance at the mattress told her that they were alone and she moved in front of her brother. 

“Grantaire.” Nibbling her lip, she bent down and gently shook his shoulder. Under normal circumstances, she never would have woken him like this. Sure enough, as soon as her fingertips grasped his arm he sprang upright. Gasping for breath, he growled a streak of curses and pushed damp curls out of his eyes. 

“What the fuck Ep?” He exhaled. 

She stood a meter or so away, with arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Her voice shook as she brandished her cell. “Look, Combeferre is waiting for me to ring him back. Apparently Enjolras didn’t manage to tell anyone he spent the night.” 

Grantaire’s face stiffened before he stood and leaned against the wall. 

“What?” She demanded. Her heart raced as she took in his ramrod straight posture and the panic that structured his features. 

“He never came back.” 

“Whadda you mean HE DIDN’T COME BACK?” She couldn’t help it. The last couple of words slipped out in a scream. 

Wincing, Grantaire rubbed an ear and began pacing. 

“He didn’t come in. He-I would have heard him.” His step quickened. “Damn. Shouldn’t have taken those pills from Joly.” Grantaire mumbled and absently scratched at his unshaven face. 

Eponine watched his movements carefully. Without coffee, her brain creaked to life. “You mean, he…” The end of her thought died in her throat. 

Grantaire snapped to action and began inspecting clothes that were strewn around the room. 

“He’s missing.” She admitted. “What are you doing? Grantaire, I…” Her heart clenched as Grantaire struggled to button his jeans with shaking hands. 

He avoided her gaze and pulled a hooded jumper over his head. 

Eponine recognized the determined stance and how his brow furrowed in frustration and a kind of raw energy. Perhaps anger? She knew from experience that there would be no talking sense in to him. 

“Here.” She offered. 

Grantaire frowned, but wound the proffered scarf around his neck. 

“You’ll freeze your balls off.” 

“Right. Thanks Ep.” 

He expected her to leave or at least rush off to take a shower before work. His interest piqued, when he bent to tie a shoe and caught Eponine rummaging through a pile of laundry on the floor. 

“Got any jumpers? Gav is sleeping in my last clean one.” 

“Ah. Sure. Does ‘Chetta let you wear that sort of shit to work?” 

She scoffed and lifted a sweater to her nose. “Haha, no! I’m going with you.” 

Grantaire sighed. As kids he used his body to shield her from blows and hide her behind other children or a piece of dilapidated furniture. Somehow she always managed to wind up in the middle of the scuffle. Eponine was not afraid of anything. 

There had been a particularly bad night when he was 10. A client had knocked Grantaire around and managed to break his nose. Thenardiar deemed he needed to be taught a lesson about bloodying the customer and the mattress. Didn’t he understand health codes? That particular irony still brought twisted smiles to their faces. Grantaire had felt unconsciousness claiming him, when a blur of black hair knocked him to the ground. The little girl threw her entire frame against Thenardiar. She beat her fist against his chest and screamed. One sickening slap caused her to fall back in to his arms. From that moment, Grantaire knew that he had no control over Eponine’s actions. He could only participate in the aftermath. He vowed to always catch her. Like that night. Her body fit perfectly against him, and he was grateful for his broadening shoulders that expanded like wings to shield her malnourished frame as he rolled her underneath his body, away from Thenardiar’s belt and kicks. 

“R? Time to go yeah?” 

He blinked and found himself staring at Eponine jamming one of his beanies. Her eyes held that familiar fire. 

“Course.” He answered gruffly. 

“Combeferre called Joly and Courfeyrac. They are rallying the others to search around their flats and Uni.” 

Grantaire nodded and hunched his shoulders in the crisp winter morning air. 

“I told him we’d scour the shitty part of town.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Grantaire could detect a bit of pride in her tone. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Must ‘ave walked towards the metro, since Joly lives a block and a half west of there.” 

Grantaire set his jaw and let his ward-of-the-state-instincts take over. 

“The alleys.” Eponine tugged on his jumper. 

Grantaire’s stomach sank and he entered a familiar alleyway by the factory. Eponine ran ahead, her heeled boots clacking against the pavement. 

Everything sounded as if he were underwater. Urine and trash invaded his nose. He crunched papers beneath his trainers and scanned the narrow space between buildings. 

His mouth opened to call for Enjolras, but as his lips began to form the familiar letters he froze. 

A sewer rat scuttled out from under a pile of rubbish. Grantaire flinched. He was definitely spooked. Curiosity as well as self-preservation guided him to the lumpy trash. 

He knelt and peeled back a piss stained section of newsprint. Shock propelled him forward. Blond hair matted with blood. Ashen skin. In this state Apollo resembled his namesake. His limbs were stiff and marbled with a blue-gray hue. His lips could’ve been stained with blueberries.   
Enjolras. His Apollo had turned to stone. 

His chest was still. No movement.


	15. Mercy

He did not recognize the scream that ripped from his own throat. 

Nor was he aware of Eponine pushing him away from Enjolras’ cold frame. 

He watched in detached fascination as Eponine lowered an ear to Apollo’s chest. 

If Enjolras hadn’t been transformed, he would have squirmed at the tickle of her hair on his bare skin. 

If he were breathing, Enjolras would have twisted away and laughed. 

If…

***

Fuck. Her hands trembled as Eponine ran through CPR instructions in her head. Opening his mouth, she swept a finger inside and extracted a strip of fabric bunched together with blood and spit. 

Her knitted hands pounded against his chest in memorized rhythms. Counts told Eponine when to inflate his lungs. In between compressions, she ordered Grantaire to call for help. 

“Come on.” She whispered, pulling away from Enjolras’ cold lips. “How long?” She snapped at Grantaire. 

“Five minutes? They’re sending a unit too.” 

Shit. Her muscles ached and she grew more lightheaded each time she filled Enjolras’ lungs. 

“R. I need you. Come here.” 

He rushed beside her and Eponine directed his attention to her hands. “Put them on top of each other and curl your fingers together, like you’re holding your own hand.” 

Grantaire observed with rapt attention and mimed Eponine’s actions. 

“Okay. On the count of 3 you take over, alright?” 

Grantaire opened his mouth to argue, but instead nodded. 

The next couple of minutes seemed to last for hours until the wailing of sirens perforated their concentration. 

“Thank God, thank God.” Eponine allowed herself to be taken away from Enjolras. 

Another emergency worker pressed some type of medical device over his mouth and nose while two more swarmed around Enjolras’ still body. 

“No. NO.” 

His declaration snapped her out the fog. 

“R.” She twisted away from the man that was attempting to wrap her in a shock blanket and stumbled towards Grantaire. 

“R. Stop. We gotta let them work. They have to help him, Grantaire.” 

He would not, or could not look at her. Eponine instead opted to envelope as much of him as her small frame could hold. Millimeter by millimeter Grantaire carefully collapsed against her, they fell to their knees and let the warmth of their bodies serve as a reminder of reality. 

***

The city sped by in a blur of lights and that damn wailing siren. Eponine tightened her arms around her legs and fingered the chain of her necklace. 

***

One finger. 

Hands of EMT’s manipulated and prodded Enjolras’ body. One finger was the only part Grantaire had access to. Eponine had fought for his right, as Enjolras’ boyfriend to ride in back of the ambulance. 

“Baby. I’m right here.” He bent forward to lay his lips on Enjolras’ forehead. 

“Sir. I have to ask you to stay back.” 

“What’s going on?” He croaked. 

The EMT gently removed the oxygen mask from the blond student’s face. “Monsieur’s heart has a stable rhythm, but his breathing is abnormal and erratic. Once we get to the hospital, he’ll be intubated and a machine will help him breathe.” 

Grantaire glared at the tech. He couldn’t help himself. How could this stranger sound so calm? He didn’t know shit. Anger swelled in his esophagus for the first time since they discovered the broken marble statue. 

“30 seconds, Miles!” The driver announced. 

Before Grantaire could process those words, the doors flew open and a flurry of snow and activity blew in the ambulance. 

***

Eponine blinked. Autopilot kicked in and she guided a shell – shocked Grantaire to a plastic chair in the waiting room. 

They had been forced from the trauma bay. The whine of a machine propelled everyone in to action. A defibrillator cart rolled in to place and personal fought to be heard over the din. A nurse pushed them from the room and blocked the entrance so they had no choice, but to wander the halls. 

Vibrations and the opening notes to Amy Winehouse’s ‘Back to Black’ jarred them. 

“Shit. The Amis.” Eponine dug around her hobo bag for her cell. 

“I’ll get it.” Grantaire rubbed her arm and flashed his phone in her face. “It’s Combeferre.” 

“17 texts. Oy. I’ll call Joly.” She confirmed, squeezing his shoulder before heading for the hall. 

***

“’Ferre.”

“What’s going on? Where are you? What happened?” He spat, anger and concern darkening his tone. 

“It’s Enjolras. We found him in an alley by the rosary factory. Ep and I rode with the ambulance.” 

“Shut it.” He hissed and Grantaire head shuffling on the other end. “Where? R, what hospital?” 

“Mercy. We’re…they won’t let us in. I-I’m not related. God. Combeferre.” 

“Stay there R. I’m on my way. Hold on.” 

Grantaire pressed the top of his phone to his lips and exhaled. 

***

Combeferre sped through intersections dictating texts to Bahorel. It became clear that the man needed something to do after Combeferre’s dashboard took a beating. 

“Just tell everyone to meet us at the hospital. R and ‘Ponine found him. That’s all we know.” His voice cracked at the end of the sentence and Combeferre cleared his throat, hoping to dislodge any fear. 

Parking proved to be nightmarish, but with a few vile signs and a bit of colorful language Bahorel scored street parking a block away from the Emergency Department. 

***

Jehan’s braid dotted with multicolored ribbon drew Combeferre’s attention to the corner of the waiting area. 

“Where is he?” 

Eponine dragged the back of her hand across her eyes and unfolded herself from Jehan’s lap. 

“Probably still in the trauma bay. They won’t give us any information. We aren’t next of kin or an emergency contact.” 

Combeferre resisted the urge to wrap her in an embrace. Her posture shifted and she appeared to retreat in to herself. 

He nodded and swerved around her. 

“Don’t.” Eponine shook her head and blocked him from taking the seat next to Grantaire. 

They stood facing each other in a stalemate of sorts until the trio burst through the double doors. 

“Eponine, Eponine, R.” Joly scanned the space practically vibrating out of his skin until he saw them. 

Grantaire straightened his spine for a moment and stared in disbelief at his friend. 

“Shh. It’s alright. Shh.” Joly spoke in hushed tones and gathered the cynic in his arms. 

Fresh sobs were muffled by the pre-med student’s coat. Eponine allowed Musichetta to lead her to the loo and suddenly the boys were alone. 

Combeferre intuitively took attendance and ticked off missing members. Feuilly and Enjolras. His stomach clenched at the thought of his injured mate. This wasn’t a fucking meeting, but he couldn’t stop himself. Enjolras was the speaker. He held audiences’ attention for hours and incited a passion that was rarely reproduced. 

“Right.” Clearing his throat, Combeferre rubbed his temple. “Er. Everybody.” 

Bahorel punched Jehan’s arm lightly and gradually the anxious chatter ceased. 

“We should take shifts. Gavroche needs to be picked up at the end of the day. ‘Chetta can’t keep the shop closed for long.” 

“That’s not fair!” Bahorel growled, his arm curling around Jehan who had resumed crying. 

“Yeah mate.” Courfeyrac added softly. “We’re all here ‘cause we need to be.” His friend stood and clamped a hand of Combeferre’s shoulder. “Besides, if anyone is leaving it should be for coffee.” A smile tugged at his mouth. 

“That would be my cue darlings.” ‘Chetta kissed Eponine’s cheek and guided her to a seat next o Grantaire before rejoining Bossuet. “What can we bring back for everyone?” 

Murmurs picked up again and Courfeyrac turned to face his friend. 

“So. I seem to recall something about you and I being Enjolras’ emergency contacts.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Does he have any family we should call?”

Combeferre shook his head sadly. “No. He had a falling out with his parents years ago, and…no. It’s just us.” 

“Right. Shall we? I may be able to charm my way past that scary looking nurse, but I don’t speak doctor.” 

“Of course my friend.” Impulsively Combeferre squeezed Courfeyrac’s fingers before they set off in search of information. 

***

“What do you mean? It’s a simple question!” Courfeyrac pivoted and wound his hands through his hair.   
Combeferre eyes his friend before transferring his attention back to the doctor. 

“Please, we are his family. See, we’re listed as his contacts in case of emergency.”

“Which this CLEARLY qualifies as.” Courfeyrac shouted. 

“I gave you his medical history.” Combeferre continued, pointing at the forms someone had tucked in Enjolras’ chart. 

Finally the grey-haired man consented and ushered them in to a semi-private room. 

“Your friend has survived a violent attack. He has multiple fractures to his ribs, possibly a break to his jaw, a compound fracture in his left femur and internal injuries. His wounds and internal bleeding are consistent with assault. Would you consent to collection of evidence and materials on his behalf?”

“Enjolras.” Combeferre corrected. His voice barely above a whisper. 

“Is. He. Alright.” Courfeyrac gripped the chair until his knuckles shone with sweat. 

The physician removed his stethoscope and held it in his hands. “When he arrived, his breathing was erratic and in order to stabilize him we placed him on a ventilator. He has been put in a medically induced coma in order to give his body time-“

“Doctor Valjean! The patient in Trauma 1 is coding. Prolonged seizure.”

“Call an operating theater.” He directed, his movements deft and confident. 

“But-what-“ Courfeyrac sputtered. 

“Fantine will escort you to the waiting area upstairs and provide the paperwork you need to fill out as his proxy. I’ll be sure to send updates.” 

Combeferre had no reason to trust this old physician, but a determination and youthfulness behind his eyes compelled the student to nod.


	16. Familiar Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. The aftermath of the attack, which leaves more questions than answers.

Eponine paced the seven squares of linoleum between Jehan and Grantaire. She crumpled the strip of fabric that had gagged Enjolras in her hands. 

“Ep.” Joly called, standing just outside her counted perimeter. 

“Hmm.” 

“I’m not going to bother asking how you are…but.” He shrugged and Eponine caught a glimpse of a much younger Joly, more naïve and vulnerable. 

Even if she wasn’t fine (and honestly how the fuck could she be?) it was her duty to lie. 

On a ‘normal’ day, she barely passed for bat-shit insane. Acting opposite to her instincts, Eponine rose on tiptoe and gave him a quick hug. 

“How are you?” She asked, returning the question. 

Joly squeezed her hands and looked at the floor. “I-I’m worried about everyone. Look at him.” His voice dropped an octave and he flicked his head towards R. 

“I know. It’s like before.” Eponine gasped, shocked that she nearly broke her brother’s confidence. 

Puzzled, Joly searched her face. 

Eponine cut off any further inquiries by shoving the scrap of fabric at him. 

Alarmed by the blood and other dried fluids, the resident hypochondriac leapt backwards.   
“What the fuck Ep?!” 

“Quiet!” She hissed, dragging him by the arm in to the ambulance bay. 

“What is this?” He demanded, yanking the cloth away from her he held it at arm’s length. 

She raked a hand through her hair. “When Grantaire found him, he wasn’t breathing. I took a CPR course when we got custody of Gav. So, I opened his mouth to check for obstructions and that’s what I found.” She glared at him and shifted awkwardly on her heels. “This is their signature.” 

Joly froze. “You don’t mean.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Jesus. Does Grantaire know?” 

“No. I just worked it out while Musichetta was in the loo.” 

Her skin prickled and Eponine found herself falling in to memory. 

“I’ll be off then.” He coughed. After touching her face gently with the blunt end of his trademark knife, the door slammed shut. Eponine struggled upright, still bound against the post. Panicking would only hurt her, so she willed herself to breath normally through her nose. As it was, her mouth was stuffed with a strip of her own shirt. Saturated with fluids that the thought of made her gag. Her body shivered and called attention to the fact that she remained without a shirt. The skirt Azelma had helped her hem the other day had been discarded a few yards away along with her panties. Montparnasse’s words echoed in her mind. “Such a smart mouth for a stupid girl. This ought to teach you.” 

Every visit after that ended in gagging with strips of her clothing, until Thenardiar found out and made Montparnasse pay for the clothes he’d shredded. 

Her eyes burned and Eponine reached for Joly. 

“What if they hurt Enjolras?” Her voice was small and child-like. 

“Like you and R.” He phrased it like a statement instead of a question. 

In lieu of confirmation, Eponine sank to the pavement. Her mind raced, mapping escape routes and contacts she could use. 

Joly had learned not to corner a wounded animal the summer that he and Courfeyrac spent volunteering at the animal shelter. His friend had received more than his fair share of scratches and bites from injured patients that he only wanted to aid.

“Hey. We’re here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Gavroche and R.” He could see the gears of her mind turning and her body itching to run. 

Eponine snorted. “You can’t promise that.” 

“Not by myself, no. But with everyone I can.” 

She didn’t answer, but let her head fall against the building. 

“With all of us, you will be safe. We can manage. Let us help.” 

“YOU DON”T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE CAPABLE OF” She wanted to shout. If she could, she’d wring his neck until he understood. 

She and Grantaire had their scars, and lived half-lives wrought with the cost of their past. But Gav, Gavroche had a chance at a normal life. How could she be the one to take that away from him? And R. It was a fucking miracle, but the man had found someone that loved him. There was no choice, but to stay for now. If. If they lost Enjolras…then she’d leave. She’d gather her brothers and they would start again. 

Eponine exhaled and held up her pinky.   
Joly smiled as he linked their digits. 

***

“Surgery.” Grantaire repeated. 

“Yes.” Combeferre confirmed. “Dr. Valjean said we can wait upstairs in the intensive care ward.” 

“Right.” He nodded, pushing himself off of Jehan. 

“Where’s ‘Ponine ‘n Joly?” Courfeyrac frowned. 

“Here.” Joly answered. “What’s going on?” Eponine was clutching his arm blinking at the sights and sound of the A&E like a newborn. 

“He’s in surgery.” Courfeyrac supplied. “We’re about to take the lift.” 

“Who’s operating?” Joly asked, watching Eponine slip the fabric in to Grantaire’s hand. 

“A Doctor Valjean spoke to us. Do you know him?” 

Joly gave a curt nod. “I’ve observed him a few days with my internship. Let’s get up there.”

Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose. “Maybe you can decipher some of what he and that nice nurse said. Law comes easily, but medicine is a beast I’d rather not tangle with.” 

“Course.” Joly answered. 

Jehan curled himself in to Eponine and they wobbled towards the lift. 

“Can someone text ‘Chetta and Bossuet and let them know where we are?” The law student asked. 

“Got it.” Eponine snapped her gum and hefted her bag on to her shoulder. 

“That’s everyone yeah?” Combeferre assented and Courfeyrac pressed the button for the 4th floor. 

***

“Are you sure?” Grantaire held Eponine’s shoulders. 

They stood in front of a snack machine, coins hot in their hands.

“Do you think I’d forget my fucking clothes?” She spat.

“Sorry.” His grip relaxed. “Shit. Do you know what this means?” 

“They found us.” 

“Not only us.” Grantaire corrected. 

Eponine noticed tears brimming in her brother’s eyes. “Not only us.” She echoed. 

The pair stood in silence until Eponine cleared her throat. “Joly knows.” 

“About the Paton Minette?” 

“The cloth, all of it.” 

“Christ…” 

“We’re not running this time R.” 

He gaped at her. “You can’t be serious ‘Ponine.” 

The flash of anger across her face confirmed her decision. 

“Leaving won’t solve anything.” She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and raised her shoulders. “You and Gav have lives here. Enjolras, and the Amis are…family.” 

Grantaire waited for her to continue. 

“Remember what our deal is with family? You taught me…damn.” Eponine sniffed and violently wiped at her face. 

Grantaire tucked her head under his chin and gently swiped his thumb under her eye. “Merci ma petit soeur. We will stay.” 

***

17cups of coffee, 3 cups of tea, 32 magazines and a myriad of sugary snacks later, the Amis had officially usurped the ICU waiting room. 

Bahorel lay sprawled across 6 plastic chairs. Feuilly sat with his back against the giant’s trainers (he swore it was comfortable although no one quite believed him). Bossuet faced Feuilly, his face full of consternation. 

“Aha. Go Fish!” Bossuet called triumphantly. “No. Wait. Um gin? Rummy?” He faltered, the tips of his ears turning pink. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did you forget the game?” Feuilly yelled, letting the cards fall from his hand. “AGAIN?!

“Oi!” Musichetta stage whispered. “Ep’s asleep.” She jabbed a finger at her lap, where her friend had laid her head. 

Eponine sighed loudly. “No I’m not. It’s fine.” 

“Whatsgoingonhmm?” Bahorel grumbled, opening his eyes sleepily.

“Nothing.” Courfeyrac snapped. “Nothing for hours now.” He paced the length of the room at a caffeine-fueled jog. 

“Courf.” Combeferre started, pushing his glasses back in place. 

“Don’t, mon ami.” Courfeyrac’s voice shook. “Don’t tell me that he is fine.” 

Combeferre ducked his head and stayed silent. 

“He’s right.” 

Everyone whipped around to see Eponine draw herself upright. 

“No one knows.” 

“That doesn’t mean we don’t hope.” Joly added quietly. 

A squeak of rubber against the linoleum caught the group’s attention. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Joly accosted the nurse they now knew as Fantine. 

Eponine moved behind Grantaire and gripped his shoulder. He caught her hand and held in in place, once again binding and grounding each other. 

“He’s out of surgery.” 

Collectively the room exhaled. 

“Is he going to be alright?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Is he breathing on his own?” Joly echoed. 

“Can we see him?” Combeferre added. 

The nurse held up her hands and all three boys remembered themselves. Courfeyrac mused that the trio resembled a wolf-pack stalking prey. 

“Your friend’s liver was lacerated, but has been stitched. His spleen was considered beyond repair and removed at Dr. Valjean’s discretion. His femur has been set and casted. For the moment, he remains on the ventilator. After 24 hours, the team will re-evaluate his status and consider reversing the medically induced coma.” 

The students looked at Joly to affirm Enjolras’ survival. After a relieved nod, Combeferre turned back to the nurse. 

“Can we see him?” 

“One visitor tonight.” She said firmly. 

***

“Just go.” Grantaire argued weakly. 

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose. “He is alive. For the moment, that is enough.” His gentle gaze pleaded with Eponine who had installed herself beside her acquired brother. 

“R. You need to see him.” Er. Platitudes and emotions were never her strong suit. 

She briefly entertained the idea of smacking the back of his head and telling him to grow a pair. However, there were certain habits from their previous life in Paris’ underbelly that did NOT fit in with the student revolutionaries from safe middle class families. 

“Send him our love.” Jehan whispered, holding a bunch of crumpled tissues. Courfeyrac kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Yeah mate.” 

Musichetta, Bossuet, and Bahorel murmured their approval and Feuilly clapped Grantaire’s back. He had been a child of the system and had been lucky to find a home with a kindhearted woman. Of all the Amis, perhaps he could empathize with their dysfunctional coping mechanisms and strange attachment issues the best. 

A slight nod from Grantaire relieved Combeferre enough to rock back on his heels and exhale. The combination of coffee and adrenaline was wearing off and left him shaky and scattered. 

Grantaire’s affirmation left him exhausted. There were people to contact, necessities of Enjolras’ to gather, plans to cancel, but he could not force himself to move a muscle. 

“Err. You alright?” A voice asked. 

“Uh huh.” He answered automatically. 

“Great. Ah. Can ya open your eyes then?”   
Blinking Eponine’s freckled nose came in to sharp focus. His attempt at a smile quickly contorted in to a yawn. 

“See, fine. I told ya.” As he tried to hide another yawn. 

“Joly says you just came off a 14 hour shift before you rang me this morning.” 

“And?” He dared her to continue, a touch of Enjolras’ stubbornness had evidently rubbed off on his roommate. 

“And, that’s fucking crazy. Gimme your keys. Time to go back to your flat.” 

Combeferre shook his head and argued weakly. 

“Did I say this was a choice?” The dark haired girl nodded to Bahorel who lifted the guide to his feet. “Fuck no.” She answered as she thrust her hand in to the front pocket of his pants. With an impish grin, she dangled Combeferre’s keys in front of his face. 

“Aye, aye Captain.” Bahorel saluted, wrapping a supportive arm around the guide. 

***

Grantaire anxiously tapped his fingers in memorized patterns. 

“What’s taking so long?” He growled. 

Courfeyrac bit at a hangnail and shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe Enjolras has them wrapped around his demanding little finger already and is planning a healthcare revolution.” 

His mate rolled his eyes. 

“Ooh, a bit jealous of competition?” Courfeyrac teased. 

“Fuck you.” Grantaire laughed. 

Silence followed the exchange. Both men shuffled their feet in shame. 

The cynic broke the tension with a question. “Did everyone leave?” 

“Joly took ‘Chetta, Bossuet, and Feuilly back to the Café. Feuilly is working a night shift and he can walk from there. I think Eponine and Bahorel manhandled Combeferre in to his car.” He chuckled at the thought of Combeferre trying to argue with the dark haired powerhouse. 

“Monsieur Grantaire, you have 5 minutes.” A nurse called from behind a partially drawn curtain. 

The cynic swallowed roughly and yanked a hand through his black curls before stepping in to the space.


	17. Like Magnets

The body on the bed resembled his boyfriend if Grantaire squinted like he was observing a modern art piece.

Machines pulsed and beeped. Wires and tubes crisscrossed his body. Bruises in varying stages clung to his skin like leeches. White bandages and the cast that ran from his hip to his foot stuck out against the blue bedclothes and hospital gown. He noticed the stitches peeking out from under a bandage on his cheek.

A sob caught in his throat as his hands searched for a centimeter of Enjolras that wasn’t hurt. The ventilator clicked and filled Enjolras’ lungs with oxygen as Eponine and he had done.

Suddenly Grantaire’s legs gave out. Reality slammed in to him and his hands shook uncontrollably.

Montparnasse came after him through Enjolras. Through his Apollo. Once he’d believed that his marble statue was untouchable. The broken pieces that lay before him served as evidence to the contrary.

_Do you see? Do you see what happens?_

The volume of his voice threatened to split his skull in two.

_Look what you made me do!_

_The grip he had on his hair brought tears to his adolescent eyes._

_The hand forced his head down._

_The body’s limbs lay at odd angles like a rag doll._

_Bruises and blood obscured the boy’s identity. Had it not been for the soiled clothes, Grantaire would not have recognized his… Friend?_

_No. He was a whore. A selfish bitch who deserved nothing. Not food, not a bed, not toys, not love. Nothing. No person, adult or child in their right mind would want him for anything._

Please stop Grantaire tore at his hair, rocking back and forth.

_Next time, he’s fucking dead. Do you hear me?_

“No, no, no, no, no, no” He chanted, hot tears spilling down his face.

_Rene’s body groaned and Grantaire reached for him. Hands yanked him away. Legs kicked at Rene and he just lay there._

_MOVE. JUST FUCKING MOVE. Grantaire willed him, struck numb by Thenardiar’s tactics._

Anyone he cared about fell. Struck down by the powers that controlled his shitty puppet existence. They pulled the strings and he could only watch through detached eyes what happened. His touch was akin to King Midas. His touch poisoned everyone he came in contact with. He could only trust one person. That scrap of a girl that seemed to share his curse.

His poison seemed to mingle and in turn protect them from the outside world that threatened to destroy their fractured lives.

***

Courfeyrac scuffed the floor with the tip of his trainer.

“Sir? There is a situation with your ah friend.”

His heart hammered like a hummingbird. “Is he breathing? What happened? More surgery?”

The older nurse frowned. “Non. It is the young man who was visiting the patient.”

Confusion gave way to concern as Courfeyrac followed the matronly woman.

“Oh hell.” He breathed.

***

“Grantaire.”

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

“Grantaire. R?”

_Inhale. Just open your fucking eyes coward._

“R. Come on.”

_Courfeyrac. It’s a…you know him for fuck’s sake._

“Grantaire. Don’t…come on ‘round, yeah?”

Savoring the sensation of his nails bending under the clenched muscles in his hand, Grantaire forced his eyes open and audibly exhaled.

“Hey mate.” Courfeyrac started.

“Sorry.” Grantaire apologized, avoiding the pity in his friend’s expression. Carefully he let his hands fall open and away from his knees.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated, making brief eye contact with the nurse.

With a final look at Enjolras, he brushed his fingers over his boyfriend’s uncovered toes and followed Courfeyrac in to the ward.

***

 **To: ‘Ponine** Enj stable. R flipped a shit and freaked the nurse out.

 **To: Courfeyrac** Fuck. Come back to our flat. Gav’s passed out. Bahorel ordering take away. Indian?

 **To: ‘Ponine** Deal. Get extra sauce.

 **To: ‘Ponine** But nothing too spicy. I don't want to break your loo later.

 **To: Courfeyrac** Maybe you should grab some TP and freshener on your way outta there

***

Combeferre shuffled around the flat. He absently transferred textbooks and notes from the couch to the table and back again. He stirred a cup of tea until it grew ice cold. Time passed in a strange manner. Each minute could be agonizingly long. Yet the next time he looked the clock above the stove, over an hour had transpired.

His mind was somewhere hazy alternating between gathering some of his roommate’s personal items and falling in to memories. Enjolras’ laptop hummed to life and guilt washed over Combeferre.

Enjolras had insisted that he use his computer for as long as he needed to after the ‘incident’. Public transportation had not been kind to the pre-med student. His messenger bag had slipped off his shoulder during rush hour and been trampled by hordes of commuters, a searing cup of espresso and a well placed stiletto heel.

He chuckled to himself, as the laptop accepted the password and revealed the programs Enjolras had open. A half finished essay on Tolstoy, multiple tabs open with research on policies and of course BBC.

Ding!

He jumped, scanning the screen for the source of the noise. The Skype icon bounced up and down. Clicking the program, he read through a dozen or so instant messages and four missed video chat attempts. Combeferre’s heart sank.

***

 **Pontem3rcy** Enjy!! I can’t wait to talk to you.

Major news. Hey. Um did I get the time wrong?

Look, just let me know when you get on your laptop.

Okay. It’s been 3 hours.

Seriously Enjolras, if this is a practical joke Courfeyrac is making you pull, tell him it’s NOT FUNNY.

Enjy? I’m really worried about you.

Please just let me know you are alright.

***

The guide gnawed at a chapped section of his lip and began typing.

 **Rev0lut10nwhoweR** Marius, it’s Combeferre. He paused briefly and hit enter. Marius began typing instantly.

 **Pontm3rcy** WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON I’VE BEEN MESSAGING YOU AND THE GUYS FOR HOURS DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS HERE?!

Combeferre winced, even a couple continents away, Marius’ panic could be felt. Sadly, his trademarked dramatics were warranted for this conversation.

 **Rev0lut10nwhoweR** I am sorry Marius. Someone should have contacted you sooner. You must be busy, er; time differences are not my strong suit. You’re near New Delhi right?

 **Pontm3rcy** NOT the point. Where is Enjolras?!?!

 **Rev0lut10nwhoweR** Right. To make a long story short, Enjolras was attacked between late last night and early this morning. We’ve all been at the hospital all day. He’s stable for now, but heavily sedated.

Marius. Talk to me.

Please.

 **Pontm3rcy** I’m calling Granddad for a loan.

I’ll be back soon.

I need to be there.

Combeferre raked a hand through his cropped hair. It was useless to protest. Marius could be just as stubborn, if not more so than Enjolras.

 **Rev0lut1onwhweR** Okay. Call me when you pin down a flight. One of us will pick you up.

Honestly, it will be good to have you home.

 **Pontm3rcy** Merci mon frère. Talk to you soon.

***

“Uh ‘Ferre? Are you in?” “Here.” He answered raising his hand halfheartedly.

“Is work over already?” He jerked his shoulders towards his ears.

“Nah. Martine offered to cover when she heard why I was late.”

“Tu chien!” Combeferre exclaimed.

“Our flat mate would approve.” They exchanged sad smiles before Feuilly turned to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Want one?”

“What’s left?” Combeferre squinted at the label from the recreation room, not quite able to read it in spite of his glasses.

“Nothing too bad. The boys haven’t been over in a while…so we have Guinness.”

“Yet another abnormal event to add to this whirlwind day.” Feuilly smirked and tossed his friend a bottle.

“Cheers.”

“To Enjolras.” Combeferre added nobly.

“Cheers.” Each man sat lost in thought until the opening notes of BBC’s Sherlock theme song penetrated the comfortable quiet.

Before Feuilly could explain or extract his phone from one of many pockets in his cargo pants, Combeferre’s phone began vibrating incessantly.

***

“Napkins?” Jehan asked, dutifully clearing off the makeshift coffee table in preparation for the take away.

Eponine flushed. “Um. We’re out…unless R pinched some from Chez Catherine.”

“Hmm. Where are you hidiiiinnnnggggg?” The poet sang, rooting around the sparse kitchen.

“Try the loo. His organizational system makes no fucking sense to anyone, but him.” Jehan raised an eyebrow, but sashayed away from her in search of elusive paper products.

Eponine blew dust off the mismatched set of silverware and toted their collection of ‘food holders’ as Gavroche so aptly dubbed them.

“There.” She sighed. A couple bowls, washed take away containers, a few plates and even the biggest mugs were laid out.

“Could we make do with bath tissue?” Jehan asked.

“Why not?” Jehan kneeled by the couch, and began to fold miniature origami with the two-ply Grantaire had liberated from the Metro restrooms.

The poet hummed a few bars of an unknown melody and Eponine went to shut the door to Gav’s closet of a room.

Even in sleep, Gavroche’s brow wrinkled. He clutched Quincy to his chest so tightly, that even if she wanted to, Eponine did not think she’d physically be able to separate them. Despite the fact that the three of them had been living in the ratty flat for months, her little brother still wound up in the corner of the room nightly. His back huddled against cardboard boxes and his knees nearly tucked against with nose.

If there were a God above, Eponine would demand him to give Gavroche a fresh start. The same thought gnawed at her brain. Would he be better of with a real family? Two parents that could provide everything he could ever need. A backyard to play in, instead of alleyways full of discarded needles and the smell of piss. He deserved to feel safe.

Hell, if Enjolras was attacked, anyone could be next. The Patron-Minette could afford to bide their time. Send messages. Make her and R beg for their friends’ lives if they did not return. She could not. No, she would not let anyone else get hurt. Not because of her ugly scars.

***

“We will come bearing food.” Courfeyrac announced.

He held his keys in his mouth and kicked the car door shut with his foot. Grantaire shivered in the night air and accepted the paper bag Courfeyrac placed in his arms.

“Ready?” R stared ahead and followed his friend up the couple flights of stairs to his flat.

“HONEY, I’M HOME.” The theater major burst.

Eponine leapt up and clamped a hand over her boisterous ami’s mouth. “Gav’s asleep you lovable idiot!” She whisper-yelled.

“No I’m not!” A little voice quipped.

Courfeyrac made puppy dog eyes and slunk off to deposit the food at Jehan’s well-set bohemian themed table. “Hi there, ma petit homme. What are you doing awake?”

“Can’t sleep anymore.”

“Alright. How was Claudia?” Gavroche frowned.

“Her cats are stinky. But she gave me a bunch of crunchy biscuits.”

“So, not a bad day all in all?”

“Nah.”

“Courf and ‘Taire brought back Indian. How ‘bout a bite?” Her little brother crossed his arms and stared at his sister.

“Aww, come on. I brought back chopsticks! Wanna practice with rice?” Courfeyrac chided, shoveling rice in to the curry.

Gav’s face brightened considerably. He scurried over to Jehan’s lap and picked up a piece of chicken with his fingers.

“Oy! Use a chopstick…or a fork!” Eponine chided weakly.

***

Grantaire pulled a vibrating phone out of his pocket and answered it skeptically. “Is this Monsieur Grantaire?”

“Oui, who is this?”

“This is Fantine, from Mercy Hospital. Combeferre asked me to contact you. We’d like you to know that Enjolras is awake. He is stable, but still intubated.”

Grantaire’s heart hammered against his ribcage. “Sir? Are you there?”

He managed to shake his head and choke out. “Yes, yes, I am here.”

“Anyway, ICU patients are allowed one family member to stay with them passed normal visiting hours.”

“But.” Grantaire froze, gears in his mind turning slowly. “Do you mean…”

Hope was dangerous. It could make you take un-calculated risks. It caused pain and heartache.

Fantine laughed softly. “Yes. You are allowed to see him. Come to the nurse’s station on the 5th floor and I will get you settled in before my shift ends at 7am.”

“I’ll be there.” He answered, the dial tone reverberating in his ear long after the nurse ended the call.

Grantaire leaned against the counter and tried to settle his brain.

“’Taire? Hey.” He nodded in response.

“Want some food?”

“Not hungry.” He spoke to the floor.

Eponine nodded knowingly. “How about some tea?”

“No, thanks.”

“Enjolras is awake.” His tone flat and void of emotion.

She punched his arm reflexively. “When were you gonna speak up?” He looked at her and blinked.

Grantaire opened his mouth to answer her and fell forward. His knees connected with the tile as he slumped forward. 

Eponine rushed to catch her older brother, but cried out when his head crashed against the floor with a deafening crack.


	18. Naked Morning Guests

Eponine felt her throat burn, but could not hear the scream. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Why couldn’t she reach him? She flung her body and flailed her limbs desperately. Hands gently restrained her and gradually her senses receded to normal arousal levels. 

With all of the fight drained out of her, Eponine sagged between Bahorel and Combeferre. 

“Take it easy tiger.” The brawler teased lightly, easing his friend to the floor. 

“Where is he?” She winced blinking, swallowing tensely.

Combeferre swam in to her vision. Sweat brushed his hairline and he made such intense eye contact that Eponine leaned in to Bahorel. 

“Joly and Courfeyrac put him on the sofa. He’s awake, but not talking to anyone.” 

“His head…” She began, a frown tugging at the corners of her drawn lips. 

“Our med student is running a gamut of tests as we speak. I’m sure he’ll live.” He offered a small smile and pulled her to stand. “In between all of dear Joly’s mutterings about TBI’s and brain bleeds, he mentioned R is probably dehydrated.” 

Whether the proximity to Enjolras’ roommate or the sudden loss of blood to her brain caused her dizziness was truly anybody’s guess. 

“Makes sense. Most days he eats less than I do.” 

“Squirreling away for Gav again?” 

“Yeah.” She tried to look sheepish and hoped she managed it. Let him believe that she and Grantaire were selflessly storing food for their younger brother. He did not need to know that flashbacks and a particularly intense day of depression squashed their appetites more effectively than any diet trend. 

Which reminded her that if she wanted to stay conscious for the immediate future, she should eat something. Maybe. Only if Jehan confirmed Gavroche ate an acceptable amount for dinner. And after she knew Grantaire was alright. 

***

“Fucking A’” Courfeyrac whistled. “He’s awake?!” 

“Ow!” Grantaire yelped, rubbing his shoulder where Courf had punched it a moment earlier. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Courfeyrac continued to shout as he straddled his friend’s huddled form. 

“Oy! Back off a bit.” Joly interjected, commanding Grantaire to follow his finger. 

The chaos continued until a light knocking called attention to the front of the flat. Everyone paused until Feuilly’s deep voice could be heard through the door. “Open up you idiots!” 

Bahorel unbolted the half dozen locks and stepped aside as a slightly inebriated Feuilly stumbled in toting a paper bag full of what everyone assumed was alcohol. Combeferre followed his roommate with packages of crisps and biscuits. 

“Bless you!” Bahorel cried squeezing his friend in a customary headlock. 

Even Courfeyrac leapt off of Grantaire and pawed through the loot like an excited puppy. Combeferre cracked a smile and helped Eponine distribute tumblers of cheap wine. In her own cup, she poured a bit of apple juice and lime flavored seltzer. She fixed Grantaire the same concoction and settled in next to her brother on the sagging couch. 

The bubbles popped and fizzed under their noses as the group of friends carried on the usual shenanigans. Before long, Jehan had found ‘Finding Nemo” using Courfeyrac’s Netflix login. Bahorel nearly burned the flat down for the second time that day attempting to make popcorn. Musichetta had both of her boys laying at her feet while she painted Eponine’s toenails with a mint green polish borrowed from Jehan. Combeferre moderated a ‘discussion’ between his flat mate and Bahorel about Poland. 

Grantaire absently picked at the skin on his thumb until Eponine covered his hands with hers. She traced his veins and tightened her grip whenever his muscles tensed in panicked memory. 

***

“Rise and shine!” Eponine chirped..

“Fuck. You.” Bahorel yelled with his face firmed planted in the carpet. 

“No thanks sweetheart” She sang, smacking the coffee pot in to place as the grounds brewed. 

“Ughhhh” Joly moaned yanking one of Musichetta’s legs over his ear to block out the chatter. 

“AND ALL THAT JAZZZZZZZ” 

“Who the hell is SO LOUD?” Combeferre groaned rubbing his face. 

“Chicago?” Jehan asked sleepily. He began humming along with the show tune. 

“Oh God.” Bossuet moaned. “Toilet. Toilet” With every step the urgency of the situation escalated. 

“Courfeyrac. He likes to pretend every shower is a West End performance.” Eponine rolled her eyes and lined mugs along their sad excuse for a countertop. She grinned sadistically and slammed the last few just to see the Amis wince and frown. 

“Courf! Open the damn door.” Bossuet argued weakly, slapping the door with an open palm. 

“Yeah. He’s looking rather green.” ‘Chetta agreed, her voice rising to operatic standards. 

“Whoever interrupted my solo” Courfeyrac started, steam enveloping his body as Bossuet rushed passed him. 

“He’s having a good morn’” He added cheekily, watching Bossuet fall to his knees in front of the porcelain throne. 

Courfeyrac leaned forward and shook out his sopping hair like a fucking dog and absently scratched his groin. 

Everyone noticed at once. Reactions varied, but all included terminating visual contact with the theatre major. 

“MY EYES” Joly screamed. While Musichetta snuck a hurried glance before pressing her boyfriend’s head to her chest in comfort. 

Grantaire sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Blinking, he found himself with a front row view of Courfeyrac, in all of his naked glory. He nuzzled the sofa with his face and went back to feigning sleep. 

Combeferre merely shook his head and pulled on a jumper before going to the kitchen. 

“PUT THAT FUCKING THING AWAY.” Eponine howled and raced towards Courfeyrac with a dishtowel. “THERE IS A CHILD HERE.” 

“Do I have to?” He whined, unperturbed as the fabric nipped at his skin. “Jehan likes it! Ow!” 

Jehan’s whole frame reddened from the tips of his ears to his sock-less feet as his lover stretched out his arms and thrust his hips forward prior to letting out a barbaric yawp. 

“Pants are required mon ami.” A new voice chuckled. 

“Marius.” Combeferre choked out. He adjusted his glasses as if to prove that his appearance wasn’t a hangover related mirage. 

“Pontmercy!” Courfeyrac shouted. Ducking under Eponine’s improvised towel whip, he sprinted towards his friend. 

“Whoa!” A blonde squealed, screwing her eyes shut. “Pants before hugging Courf. You know the rule.” 

“Cosette!” Jehan leapt to his feet. Turning around he found his voice and addressed his boyfriend. “Pants. Now. No excuses.” With a quick jaunty slap on the rear, Courfeyrac dragged his feet towards the now vacant loo. 

At some point during this exchange Bossuet had rejoined ‘Chetta and Joly, who were now doting over him in their signature ways. 

***

The Amis welcomed the couple back to the fold in typical tradition. Bahorel tackles him with all the restraint of a toddler, while Eponine embraces Cosette and Jehan begins writing on her arm. 

Grantaire almost lets himself smile. Almost. Before he is chided by an internal voice. Icy words twist his organs in a vice-like grip. 

“Grantaire.” Marius’ freckled face swims in to focus. 

“Marius, ah.” He fumbles for words. 

Although he’d never admit it, Grantaire is grateful for a boxer wearing Courfeyrac to loudly announce his return. 

A couple of Amis laughed, while Combeferre takes Marius aside. Eponine and Cosette make their way over to where Jehan has coaxed R in to a cup of tea. 

The sun’s intrusion through the common room windows suggests the time to be about 6 AM. Courfeyrac is the first to notice this and inadvertently sends the Amis in to a panic with the announcement. 

Grantaire and Combeferre exchanged a look before Courfeyrac shoved Grantaire towards the bathroom. 

“A bit of product wouldn’t kill ya!” He calls shrilly. “Ep! Got any clean clothes?” 

R’s middle finger answered his remark. 

“If you can navigate the minefield, check Gavroche’s room.” Eponine shook a knife plastered in butter in his general direction, narrowly missing Cosette’s blonde mane. 

“Breakfast!” Combeferre announced handing off a plate of pancakes to Eponine. 

“Come and get it, Gav grab the cranberry juice ‘Chetta brought.” She directed. 

Several miniature disasters later the group was fed, watered and in various stages of dressing. 

***

Combeferre held a notebook and chewed on a pen cap. 

“Whatcha working on?” Eponine asked, holding a brush to Gavroche’s hair. “The more you wiggle, the more it’ll hurt.” She warned the younger Thenardiar. 

“Carpooling.” He answered simply, scribbling out a name. 

“Hmm.” She frowned, looking over the guide’s shoulder. “Don’t put Bahorel and Feuilly together. Marius is driving?!” 

“Yes?” Raising an eyebrow he turned to look at her. 

She snorted and released Gavroche. “That boy couldn’t navigate his way out of this flat unattended. Plus he’s been abroad for the past couple of months, traffic’s changed yeah?” 

Combeferre nodded, making adjustments to the list. “You are certainly correct. Want to ride with me and Courf?” 

“Well, if Courf will be there at least I can count on good tunes.” She teased, ruffling his hair. 

“The ONE time I played Sigur Ros for you Ep…” He stuck his tongue out at her back before addressing the group. 

“Hey! Everybody listen up!” He tried to raise his voice, but no one even hesitated. 

An ear-splitting whistle stunned the group in to a brief silence. Eponine winked at Gav and motioned for Combeferre to continue. 

“Um…thanks Gav. So, here’s how we are getting to the hospital: listen for your names…” 

***

One tantrum, four travel mugs of coffee, and precisely 23 minutes later, the Amis were sorted in to the proper vehicles and en route. 

Combeferre led the way with Eponine, Grantaire and Courfeyrac. The latter of whom was sitting with his arms folded across his chest like a petulant child. 

“’Ponine. You can’t call shotgun until you SEE the car.” 

“20 / 20 vision baby.” She smacked her gum loudly and wiggled in her seat. 

They bickered amicably until he pulled in to a space reasonably distanced from the trauma center. All four persons exited Combeferre’s clunker. 

The whine of mental scraping metal caused Courfeyrac to groan. 

“Who allowed Bossuet to drive?!” Eponine stifled a laugh and saw a similar expression mirrored on ‘Chetta’s face. 

“I thought Joly was.” Combeferre explained, tight lipped. 

“Apparently not.” She sighed, pulling Gav out of the backseat. 

An embarrassed Bossuet stammered that he would repaint what he’d managed to scrap off of his mate’s car, while Joly emerged from the passenger’s seat looking shaken. 

Musichetta crawled out after the little boy, and immediately waved to Feuilly. 

Bahorel and Feuilly argued as they walked to join the others and nearly dwarfed the poet who was sandwiched between them twirling his car keys. 

“Told you he should’ve taken a right at Emmett’s.” 

“And what about the traffic on 5th?” Feuilly countered. 

Jehan raised his hands in peace and squeaked out the suggestion for a truce. Courfeyrac used the opportunity to extract Jehan from the arguing men while Combeferre negotiated a brief mediation session. 

***

“Monsieurs!” Fantine adjusted the stethoscope around her neck and hurried around the side of the nurses’ station. 

“Fantine.” Combeferre reached for her hand. 

“You caught me just in time. I’m off the clock in a couple minutes.” She smiled amicably. 

“Thank you.” Grantaire supplied, his face flushing. 

“How is he today?” The guide interrupted. “Is he breathing on his own?” 

The nurse nodded. “Yes. Dr. Valjean extubated him about an hour ago. He is maintaining adequate oxygenation levels on minimal N/G flow. He is still heavily medicated for pain management, but he is alert and can receive visitors.” 

Grantaire found his voice. “Can we both go in?” 

“Yes.” She hesitated. “If anyone walks in, say that Fantine got clearance from Dr. Valjean alright?” 

“Thank you.” Combeferre leaned in and kissed her cheek. 

Grantaire echoed his friend’s sentiment and practically dove for the door she had led them to. 

***

“Enjolras…Monsieur. You have visitors. Enjolras.” 

The melodic tones cut through the fog and Enjolras found himself swimming through the stupor. Tired. He was so tired. How could his eyelids be this heavy? 

“He actually prefers Enjy.” A familiar voice snickered. 

With a burst of energy, he broke the surface and opened his mouth. “Hgdn. N-n-not true.” 

Blinking slowly, Grantaire’s face came in to focus. He felt a hand grasp his fingers and shifted his gaze to find Combeferre. 

“My friend.” The guide swept his hand under his glasses and took a shaky breath. Enjolras tried to manipulate the muscles in his fingers, but couldn’t tell if he was able to squeeze his friend’s hand. 

Words were too hard to form. Keeping his eyes open remained a monumental task.   
Grantaire said nothing. He watched the interaction between the old friends. He could barely breath. His entire body was vibrating. His boyfriend was alive. Broken and bruised, but alive. The prick had answered his cheeky remark. 

He had never been able to bend and weave words together with the grace Enjolras could. Grantaire drew and painted. His work spoke tomes without a single word. Neither of their practiced mediums could convey his emotions in this moment. 

Which is why Grantaire touched Enjolras’ forehead and cupped his cheek gently before pressing their lips together. 

Before Grantaire pulled away, his lover had fallen asleep with the trace of a smile on his lips.


	19. Tricks of the Mind

Eponine felt a hand on her shoulder and stiffened.

“Coffee?”

“Mmm.” She affirmed, nearly dunking her nose in the cup as she inhaled the fumes.

Cosette raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible you’ve become more addicted to this stuff since I left?”

“Maybe.” She answered, pulling the cup closer to her chest.

Cosette pursed her lips and Eponine sighed. Her friend was using her psychological powers of deduction.

“What do you want to know?” Exasperated already, Eponine flopped in to a plastic chair in the ICU.

Her ami smiled coyly. “Let’s start with an easy question…how are you handling being back here?”

“Ha. No sugarcoating huh?”

“Never.” Cosette cocked her head and waited patiently.

“Strange.”

The word lay heavily in the space between them.

***

_Courfeyrac threw the car in to park so abruptly that even in her unconscious state Eponine jerked forward._

_They burst in to the A &E center. Joly navigating the maze of corridors and rooms with deftness only a medical student could possess. Courfeyrac acted as a guard, protecting Grantaire with Eponine in his arms as they struggled to maintain pace with their neurotic friend. _

_“_ _Please help! We need help.” Joly’s voice betrayed the panic that he had swallowed for the past hour._

_“She’s dying. Fucking dying.” Courfeyrac’s yell sent shudders throughout her trembling body._

_Grantaire tightened his grip on her as she felt blood trickle down her legs._

_She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate._

_Eponine managed to clutch Grantaire’s shirt and hoist herself uptight._

_The weight of her words felt heavy in her throat._

_A spasm of nausea propelled her forward._

_A mass of congealed blood splattered on Grantaire’s neck and dripped down his chest._

_Eponine’s eyes fluttered before she lapsed in to unconsciousness._

_***_

Joly walked along the familiar corridor. His feet led him to an empty trauma bay. Ghosts of the past teased his senses and filled him with a cold dread. He put a hand on the wall to steady himself and forced a couple of deep breaths.

_“Son! What happened?” A man in scrubs snapped._

_“I-I tried to stop the bleeding.” Joly stammered, clapping a hand over his mouth as a tech stripped off her shorn clothing._

_In the harsh fluorescent light, the damage became impossibly clear. Her torso and chest were stamped with bruises in various stages of healing. Patches of red swollen skin marked where garish purple bruises would soon appear._

_Fingerprints clung to her neck like leeches._

_He saw indentations of human teeth peek out from her bra before someone draped a towel over her chest._

_Blood saturated the bandage Joly had improvised between her legs and for a moment he wavered in his resolve to stay in the trauma room._

_A glance through the rectangular pane on the door told him that his amis hadn’t moved._

_Courfeyrac had an arm wrapped tightly around Grantaire’s waist, tethering him. Grantaire stared at his hands, shaking as if he couldn’t comprehend where Eponine had gone._

_Eponine cried out and Joly forced open a space at the gurney._

_“_ _Eponine!” He touched a patch of skin on the non-swollen side of her face. But she was lost in the pain._

_Stuck in a series of perpetual flashbacks. Reliving what had been done to her that night over and over._

_She began to convulse and Joly’s suspicion of a head injury was confirmed._

_“Careful.” Joly shouted, pushing a nurse’s hand away from her chest. “Broken ribs” He added._

_Supplies were exchanged over her body, medication was injected and Joly was eased onto a stool by a kind-faced nurse. “You’re here on Wednesday mornings aren’t you?” She asked gently._

_Joly nodded, his eyes still on Eponine. “Honey, we need to know. Do you suspect she was sexually assaulted?”_

_Despite all of the time he’d spent breaking down their walls and gaining their trust, he couldn’t lie. Not this time._

_This time, she might be dying. Fuck. Christ. She’d have to be alive in order to forgive this sin._

_Right? Joly found himself nodding with tears leaking from the corners of his eyes._

_Once the nurse passed on this information to the rest of the trauma team, a screen was erected and he was escorted from the trauma bay. Courfeyrac and Grantaire enveloped him as he let his own walls crumble to join their rubble._

_***_

“Joly?” Bossuet smoothed a hand over Joly’s clammy one that was still braced against the wall.

“Hey.” He replied, hesitating before falling in to his boyfriend’s open arms.

_***_

_Parts of her body pulsed with heat, while she was equally certain that other parts were freezing._

_Pain reigned supreme over everything._

_Wave after wave crashed over her, tugging her attention to her broken body._

_Her eyes frantically scanned the room._

_People in scrubs rushed about, touching her, although she didn’t register any of it._

_She noticed their mouths moving, but no sound reached her ears._

_A woman raised the head of the bed until Eponine could see beads of sweat on her brow._

_Her ribs protested the sudden movement and screamed in agony along with Eponine._

_Desperately she gasped “R.”_

_The letter rolled off her tongue._

_T_ _he name, her brain yelled._

_She willed this nurse to understand._

_Over and over she called for him._

_Her lips formed the consonant long after her voice went hoarse._

_***_

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Doctor Valjean asked.

Considering Enjolras had his hand in a vice-like grip, Grantaire nodded.

“Alright.” The doctor teased the medical tape away from his patient’s abdomen.

Fantine reached over to extract the dingy post-op gauze.

Grantaire swallowed thickly as his eyes flicked over the glint of staples and industrial stitches.

“Why don’t you focus on Enjolras?” Fantine suggested, noting Grantaire’s expression.

_***_

_“Excuse me.” A dark skinned nurse approached the trio in the hall._

_“_ _Does R mean anything to any of you?”_

_Grantaire dug his nails in to his palms. “R is what she calls me. My name is Grantaire, R is her nickname…”_

_Relief washed over her face. “She’s asking for you.”_

_The nurse gestured for Grantaire to follow her. Grantaire’s heart beat as loud as a drum. She was upright. And breathing. Yeah, breathing was good. His thoughts tumbled over each other._

_“R.” She sighed, allowing a nurse to gently push her back against the gurney._

_Her voice acted like a catalyst and propelled him to action._

_In a heartbeat he attached himself to her side. He translated the medical speak in to simple assurances and honesty._

_A team of nurses collected samples and offered their own words of encouragement as the rape kit exam progressed._

_But the world had shrunk to just the two of them. He held her upright as a forensic camera flashed. Grantaire’s heart twisted when she flinched in time with every click of the shutter._

_“Hey. Hey Ep. Look at me.” Her body shook like an earthquake and she resembled a feral animal, ready to chew off her own limb in favor of freedom._

_“We need her to stay still.” The nurse he now knew as Monique murmured from the foot of the bed._

_“_ _Hey, I’m right here ‘Ponine.” He tried again. “Squeeze my hands. Remember our game? Squeeze as much as it fucking hurts. I’m not going anywhere. I swear.”_

_Recognition flickered across her features and Grantaire took her hands in his own._

_Monique resumed the exam, taking swabs and quietly narrating her actions._

_With every entry, Eponine drew quick uneven breaths._

_Grantaire faithfully squeezed her hands and mimicked breathing techniques Joly had taught him._

_After what seemed like hours, Monique stood. “You did a great job Eponine.”_

_“It’s over?” Grantaire asked._ _Exhaling for the first time since he entered the room he was able to breathe._

_“The exam is, yes. We collected all of the evidence required for the rape kit.” The kind nurse brushed Eponine’s hair off of her shoulder. “Eponine, I’m afraid you need stitches. The cuts are clean, but deep. Do you know what was used?”_

_Grantaire averted his gaze, but heard Eponine say “Knife.” He closed his eyes and clenched his hands in to fists as anger pulsed through his body._

***

“How…does it…look?” Grantaire blinked and Enjolras’ face came in to focus. His mouth was curled in to a familiar frown. “Sexy.” Grantaire answered after a beat. “Did I ever tell you that I have a thing for guys with scars?” “N-no.” Enjolras smiled briefly before stifling a cough and wincing. Fantine noted his movements with the practice of a veteran nurse, and raised the head of the bed to a semi-upright position. “Ah, the better to see you with my dear.” Grantaire teased, mentally hitting himself for such a tacky reference. “Jehan…picked movies…again?” “Yeah.” He paused. “Enjolras I…” Enjolras patted the bed. “Come here.” Grantaire unfolded his limbs and situated himself alongside his boyfriend. Enjolras raised his un-casted arm to catch the tears tumbling down his lover’s face. “What’s wrong?” “Shit. What isn’t wrong?” “Always…a cynic.” “You almost died! Because of me. If I could just control myself. If I fucking left you alone you wouldn’t be here, broken and in pain.” “Shh. Grantaire.” He eyes closed without his consent. The next words came out softer. “Not your fault…do you hear…me?” “Yeah.” Grantaire wriggled his body closer. “Stay.” He murmured, a moment away from sleep. “Always Apollo.” The lie fell from his lips as guilt choked his organs.

***

“’Ponine! ‘Ponine, ‘Ponine, ‘Ponine, ‘Ponine!” Her eyes widened.

Gavroche was standing in front of her.

Well, bouncing actually.

She hadn’t seen her little brother this sugared up since they left the Thenardiars’ shit-hole.

Back when it had been fend for yourself, and Gavroche had become an accomplished pick pocket and thief of convenience shops.

“Hey Gav…” She said slowly. Carefully she scanned his frame for obvious bulges and wrappers.

“Okay buddy. Hands up and spread ‘em. You know the drill.”

He sighed, but assumed the position.

As she began patting him down TSA style, Courfeyrac and Jehan emerged from the lift.

The poet paled and seemed to retreat in to his oversized jumper.

Courfeyrac, oblivious to his boyfriend’s shame exclaimed “Gav! Where’d you get off to?” His smile fell as he bore witness to the search.

Eponine extracted no less than 8 candy bars, 3 bags of gummy sweets, and a pack of gum from his tiny frame.

“But he didn’t even have a bag…how did he? I don’t…” Courfeyrac sputtered.

Eponine shot him a glare. “Now Gav, you’ve got one chance to surrender anything I didn’t find before I enlist your accomplice here to do a cavity search?”

She pointed at Courfeyrac.

His eyes widened in fear. From the inner seam of his jeans, Gavroche produced 6 pixie sticks.

“Ma petit, what happened?” Jehan asked.

The boy shrugged. “Stress?”

Eponine nodded in agreement. “Old habit my dear.” She piled the contraband in her little brother’s arms and pushed him towards the couple.

“Go on.”

He shuffled his feet. “I’msorryfortakingadvantageofyournonexistantstreesmartskillsandsneakingbehindyourbackstogetthisdeliciouscandy.” He finished in one breath.

“Merci, Gavroche.” Jehan smiled and elbowed his boyfriend who uttered a similar statement, but remained frozen in confusion.

***

As Eponine waited for the elderly hospital volunteer to total the loot Gavroche stole, the hair on the back of her neck prickled.

Cautiously she stole a glance behind her.

All at once reality dimmed and she tumbled in to memory.

That face.

His starched uniform and unreadable countenance.

***

_“Mademoiselle Thenardiar?”_

_Monique nodded._ _“We’re just wrapping up here.”_ _The nurse adjusted her patient’s IV and added another blanket._

_“I understand that you were assaulted tonight.”_

_Grantaire stood. “We didn’t ask for the police.” His voice low and reminiscent of a growl._

_“Look.” The man ignored Grantaire. “My name is Detective Inspector Javert, and I was called here to take the statement of a young Mademoiselle who was brutally assaulted and raped.”_

_Eponine flinched at his terminology. “I’m no Mademoiselle.”_

_“Can’t you just leave us alone!” Grantaire blurted, pacing the small space._

_She absorbed his panic and began to tug at the wires and tubes that tethered her to the bed._

_“I can help.” Javert backed up a couple of steps and the pair visibly relaxed. “But only if you talk to me._

_She managed to stand with difficulty._

_Grantaire gathered Joly’s soiled comforter and her dilapidated trainers._

_Soft dark circles burst before her eyes and her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. “Easy.” The detective inspector supported her back and lifted her spindly legs._

“’Ponine.”

***

‘Ponine?

Why did he call her that?

No. That’s not right.

“Mademoiselle?” The volunteer with the smokers voice hacked.

“Eponine? ‘Ponine?” Her brother’s voice rose with anxiety.

“Sorry ma’am.” She apologized, accepting the change and taking Gavroche’s arm.

“What’s going on ‘Ponine?” Gav asked. “Ow. Not so tight.” Quickly she released him.

Eponine dragged her little brother passed Javert, still lost in thought.


	20. Broken Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here Cosette meets one of the alters in Eponine's system. Eponine has D.I.D. (or Dissociative Identity Disorder) a condition that is borne out of severe repeated traumatic experiences before the age of 10. She experiences a series of flashbacks and SIB as well as switching. Take care and read safely.

Grantaire wound his fingers through bedraggled curls, well stringy waves would be a more accurate description. Trauma, bodily fluids and medical procedures had left Enjolras’ hair rather matted and greasy. Despite this, Apollo’s golden hair could not be entirely concealed.

He debated pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead and he watched Enjolras’ chest rise and fall in steady sure rhythms. Unconsciously he fingered sections of dirty hair, gently rubbing layers of blood and dirt away.

Dr. Valjean had informed them Enjolras’ belonging had been collected as evidence and turned over to the authorities. Forensic nurses had collected samples of particulates from around his boyfriend’s injured body.

As Grantaire traced the IV tubing, flashes of memories tugged his attention to the past.

_His muscles jumped with electricity as Grantaire’s senses sharpened._

_He found himself yanking Eponine’s only pair of trainers and Joly’s bloodstained blanket in to his arms, along with ‘liberated’ medical supplies._

_They couldn’t afford to come here again. Fuck. Joly was wrong, now this man had found them._

_Grantaire’s thoughts tumbled away from him like an avalanche._

_Panic seized his chest as he watched this DI catch her awkwardly and place her back on the gurney._

_Words permeated his mental fog and he managed to see the DI withdraw a dark blue business card from his pocket and leave it on top of the bunched bedding._

_Swinging doors confirmed the DI’s departure and Eponine reached for R. Without a thought,_

_Grantaire dissolved the space between them and moved to embrace her._

_Flinching Eponine drew back, fighting to steady her breathing as to not agitate her ribs. “Don’t go R. I…I um can’t.” Uncharacteristically she stumbled over words._

_T_ _his latest struggle fueled Grantaire’s anger and he fought to stay in control._

_Her body laced itself against the gurney’s bedrail and kept trying to make itself smaller, less of a target._

_Grantaire looked towards the main A &E, bit his lip, decided to fuck it and climbed on to the bed. He pressed his own spine against the opposite bedrail and held his hands to his chest. _

_“Hey. Ep, I am right here and will do whatever you need okay? I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m not gonna touch you or let any other fucker here do that. I’ll watch everything alright.”_

_For the first time in hours, Eponine saw him. He held on to that spark, that connection and kept talking in incomplete sentences and promises that he hoped to hell he could keep. He spoke until his voice went hoarse and Eponine’s eyes closed._

***

Feuilly yanked Bahorel to his feet and practically shoved him to the nearest stairwell.

“What the hell man?” He snarled, his muscles twitching like a cornered animal.

He responded in kind, hunching his shoulders forward. “Run. We’re on the 8th floor. Run up and down as many times as you fucking have to. All I know is we can’t afford to blow this months rent on another destruction of private or public property charge. Or did you like living off of broth ‘nd damaged groceries?”

Bahorel grunted and Feuilly watched his roommate’s hands curl in to fists. He inhaled and managed to roll his neck from side to side, popping a few vertebrae. “And what are you gonna do smartass?”

Feuilly snorted. “Gotta finish this book Combeferre loaned me.” He held up a lovingly worn copy of Machiavelli’s “The Prince”.

Wrinkling his nose, Bahorel turned and trotted down the stairs. Confident that he was burning off energy, Feuilly settled against the wall at the top of the stairs and flipped through the pages to find the toothpick he’s used as a bookmark.

Concern for Enjolras, Grantaire, Eponine, hell all of them tore his attention from the text he was desperately trying to bury himself in.

A complicated knocking sequence pulled Feuilly out of his head long enough to twist his trunk and open the door. A pair of spray painted boots shuffled in to the stairwell. “May I?” The poet asked, politely waiting for Feuilly’s nod before taking a seat against the railing opposite him.

“Ah, The Prince.” He murmured, stroking Combeferre’s copy.

Feuilly watched his friend.

He was a man of few words, the Amis often teased that in order to coax him in to participation, his homeland of Poland had to be brought up.

In fact, he’d met Bahorel and Grantaire in a pub and gotten involved in a fight between Bahorel and a Cossack of a rugby player.

Soon enough he began attending meetings and quietly inserting challenging opinions of Enjolras’ policies and give vocal criticisms of the leader’s narrow scope of international relations.

The majority of the time he observed. After a couple of weeks he managed to glean most of the Amis’ backgrounds. This group of students, they were careless.

Most of them left their laptops and iPhones out at the Musain where the meetings were held and wandered around. As a long term ward of the state and foster care system, Feuilly knew how to protect himself. He guarded his meager possessions and prided himself on his work ethic. He had hardened himself to the world in order to survive it, and at times his behavior could be mistaken as cold and detached.

As he became more familiar with Les Amis, he found himself spending more time observing Grantaire and Eponine. While the others remained easy to read, these two appeared to live in perpetual masks. They communicated almost entirely in a silent language of looks and body language. He caught bits and pieces of truth in Grantaire’s sarcasm. They shared a flat on the bad side of town. An area notorious for released convicts and the Patron-Minette gang.

One day a couple months after he’d become a regular edition to the group Eponine fumbled for his tab, and dropped a picture of a young boy who bore an impish resemblance to her. Feuilly had smiled and she’d blushed before cursing softly and explaining that her kid brother still manages to bother her even when he’s at school.

“Feuilly.”

“Hmm?” He answered, laying the book beside his knee. Jehan was looking at him with knowing patience.

“Where did you go?”

“I was thinking about when I first met all of you. No one was as difficult to read as Grantaire and Ep.”

Jehan nodded and waited for him to continue. There was never any pretext or bullshit to their conversations.

“Now I am about to sound like Enjolras.” He warned, leaning forward and squeezing his knees. “I know what sort of life they’ve had. At the group homes I’d see similar cases be led through the door. They wouldn’t talk, just stare at nothing and jump at the slightest noise.”

His friend tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “But they are here now.”

“Exactly.” He nodded as flames of anger licking his stomach. “Fuck. They left. Do you know how rare that is? I could give you percentages and statistics. They are the outliers in this situation. They survived and manage to make a new life with a child no less. Christ, they are still…Enjolras’ got hurt…and I know they want to run.”

He startled and came to realize that Jehan had wrapped himself around his neck.

Feuilly surprised himself by clutching handfuls of the poet’s sweater and letting a hot tear or two fall.

***

Cosette struck the pose of a Roman guard and folded her arms against her chest. Eponine blinked at her through the cold stream of water running out of the tap.

Ah, Cosette’s ‘don’t fuck me with’ stance. From beyond the door she could hear a cacophony of the boys’ voices, but she knew that without her consent no one would get over the threshold.

“Better darlin’?” Musichetta drawled. In times of stress, her Texan accent poked through.

Eponine nodded and accepted the scratchy paper towel to wipe her face. “Shit.” She exhaled.

Cosette moved forward and motioned for Musichetta to take her place at the door.

“Sit down Ep.” Cosette drew her knees to her own chest directly in front of her long time friend and once enemy. “Keep breathing nice and slowly, and when you’re ready to talk ‘Chetta and I’ll listen alright?”

She nodded again and looked at her lap. “I fuckin’ hate blacking out. What happened?”

“Wanna start from my perspective or do you want to start?”

Waving a hand at Cosette, Eponine rubbed at her eyes with the sleeve of R’s jumper.

“Gav ran out of the lift as soon as it opened, he was freaked out and found Joly right away.”

“He didn’t make sense at first.” Musichetta added.

“Right.” Cosette agreed.

“When you came round the corner, you had a blank face. Until you saw me ‘nd Joly. Mon ami, I rarely see you cry. But you were sobbing so hard…”

“I-I couldn’t breath.” She said softly.

“Yeah, but that didn’t stop you from trying to talk” Her friend added with a little smile.

“Do you think it was a flashback?” Eponine frowned.

Cosette’s cheeks burned. “Well, that’s sort of where everything fell apart. I pushed everyone except Joly away, but it was impossible to understand all of what you were saying. You kept saying ‘Enjolras’ ‘not the same’ ‘don’t’ ‘fuckin’ M’ and thrusting this piece of um shirt I think in our faces.”

Cosette proffered the damned piece of cloth and Eponine felt a wave of nausea rock her abdomen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Eponine moaned, slamming her head against the tile wall.

“Shh. ‘Ponine, what’s going on?”

She grabbed the blonde’s hands and squeezed. “Remember Montparnasse. The bit with the clothes?”

She swallowed hard as Cosette took a deep breath and gave affirmation. “He, shit. Whenever he wants to remind me he’s in charge h-he…damn it. He leaves a bit of my bloody clothes he stole in t-t-their mouths.”

Cosette paled and Musichetta held a hand over her mouth to muffle a cry.

Eponine blinked back burning tears. Shame and guilt were like wolves tearing her in two dejected halves.

Cosette cleared her throat “You think he hurt Enjolras?”

The door slammed open and Musichetta fell in to Joly and Bossuet’s arms.

The pair barely noticed the sudden influx of Amis in the ladies toilet. “S-shit god Cosette…please ‘m sorry. S-sorry. ‘S all my fault. Why did I fight? He shoulda killed me. Just lemme go‘nd no one else will get hurt.” She sobbed, shaking so badly, that Cosette stumbled to catch her.

“Jesus.” Courfeyrac shook his head. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?!” His voice rose with every word.

Bossuet moved towards his friend, but Courfeyrac wretched away and lay in to the wall. His knuckles cracking the tile and decorating it with dots of blood.

Eponine jumped like a live wire and Cosette nearly fell on top of her to quell the tremors.

Joly whispered to Courfeyrac and Bossuet carefully guided him out of the bathroom.

Musichetta kept her hands on Gavroche’s shoulders and Marius remained near her until he nudged her to follow her boyfriends to the A&E with Courf.

“My love, what can I do?” He asked, his voice as even and calm as he could make it under the circumstances.

Cosette frowned and straightened her spine. “Can you wet some paper towels? She needs to come back, get grounded, yeah.”

“Eponine. Shhh. It’s fine. Marius and I are here. You’re safe love.” Cosette turned her attention back to her friend.

Blinking, Eponine sluggishly dragged her hands over her eyes and withdrew from Cosette’s arms. “Who you? Rweally pwetty lady.”

She said shyly bringing her closed hands over her mouth.

Cosette’s heart nearly exploded in her chest.

Eponine’s voice echoed her own vague childhood memories. It was a good octave higher than how she normally sounded.

She watched as this person stuck Eponine’s thumb in her mouth and curled up just a tight as this body would allow her to.

Flashes of her father’s psychology texts led Cosette to a startling hypothesis. She motioned for Marius to stay by the sink and gathered her courage. “Hi sweetheart, I’m Cosette er a friend of Eponine’s.”

She wrung her hands, feeling her cheeks flush with heat.

Eponine’s eyes darted back and forth and she held her hands tucked under her chin.

“What’s your name?”

“Ooh pink.” She sighed happily, pointing at the blonde’s painted fingernails. “And I dunno know…tink it’s Mal.”

“Mal? As in the word for ‘bad’ little one?”

“Uh huh.” She nodded, touching the polish gently.

Cosette snuck a glance at Marius, whose mouth had dropped open. Looking back at her friend, she cleared her throat. “Honey, let’s get out of the bathroom okay? My boyfriend Marius is going to come with us.”

She gestured at Marius and tried to look reassuring.

Eponine or Mal peeked around Cosette and immediately crawled away from the couple.

When she reached the opposite wall, she was shaking so hard her spine hammered against the tile.

Marius pulled his girlfriend to her feet. “Bloody hell, what was that?” He whispered. Cosette shook her head. “I-it’s not Eponine.”

“What do you mean? She’s right there. It’s a panic episode or something.” He countered, grasping at logic his girlfriend’s father had offered over countless dinners.

“It’s, I mean she, er Mal is a traumatized part. An alter I think. Remember when we covered Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID in psych last year?” Marius nodded and Cosette could practically see the neurons in his brain firing at their synapses.

Cosette nibbled on a nail, a leftover habit from childhood and leaned against her boyfriend. “We need Dad.” She decided, and Marius scrolled through his phone for her father’s contact information.

In the midst of the couple’s conversation, the friend in question continued to rock back and forth.

She remained completely silent except for the sound of her spine striking the tile in even rhythms.

This creature’s eyes were vacant and lacked any link to the Eponine that Cosette and Marius were familiar with.


	21. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ties a lot of loose ends together and prepares everyone for the next bombshell. Point of view alternates quite a bit, so read carefully.

“Nooooo! I’m helping.” 

“Hold on my love.”

“Couf? Er I think you’re-“

“Ouch! Damn-“

Jehan rubbed his temple and excused himself from the conversation he’d just started with the nurse at the admittance station. He should have known to just follow the chaos. Sooner or later he’d eventually find them. 

Tentatively he peeled back a curtain to find dear Bossuet splayed across Courfeyrac’s bed hopelessly tangled in a blood pressure cuff and IV tubing. Gavroche was squirming in Joly’s arms trying to plaster Courfeyrac’s face with strips of medical tape. 

Musichetta stood in the corner of the curtained area frowning at her mobile. 

Before Jehan had a chance to speak his boyfriend spotted him. 

“JEHAN!” 

“Hi there.” He smiled, helping Bossuet to stand and untangle himself. “Does this belong to you?” Carefully he handed over Courf’s IV line to Joly for inspection and listened as the medical student tsk-tsked Bossuet for his clumsiness. 

“What happened lamb?” The poet asked, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “It’s a looooooong story. Look! They gave me wonderful medicine.” He jabbed a finger at the needle taped to the crook of his elbow. 

“Let’s not touch it okay?” Jehan instructed, taking his boyfriend’s hands in his own. 

Musichetta scuffed the heels of her boots on the linoleum. “He’s worse off than St. Patrick’s day last year isn’t he?” She mused. 

“Honey, you didn’t see him New Years our second term.” They shared a smile before Joly re-entered the space reeking of hand sanitizer. 

“Is he making any sense?” He asked seriously. 

“Not much.” Jehan answered, sensing this wasn’t the time joke. 

“Good, someone from orthopedics can re-set his joints.” 

Jehan’s heart leapt in his throat. “What happened to him?” His gaze darted between his friends. Joly gripped the back of his neck before falling in to a chair. ‘Chetta’s eyes filled with tears and Bossuet shuffled his feet and stared past him. 

Only Gavroche leaned out of Joly’s arms to pat him on the head. “You missed a lot Prouviere.”

***

In the moments between sleep and consciousness everything Enjolras could feel amounted to pain. Every breath seized his ribs in agony. His muscles endured an endless series of spasms. 

How did he get in to the hospital?

Pressure mounted and spread like wildfire through his backside. 

His hands. Why couldn’t he move his hands? 

“Apollo? Wake up Enjolras, Enjolras…” 

Grantaire squeezed his boyfriend’s forearm. “Enjy, open your eyes. You’re okay.” 

“Oof.” He groaned, eyes closed tightly. “Why are you on top of me R?” 

The shorter man blushed and retreated to the bedside chair. “You were having a nightmare or something.” 

“Oh.” He nodded, “I hate sleeping so goddamn much.” His hands balled in to fists and Grantaire sensed a lecture coming on. 

“Hey! You only got out of surgery less than 24 hours ago.” He snapped. As soon as the words left his mouth, the snake of guilt in his abdomen tightened. “Er. I mean, you should be resting. Think of what our med students would say.” 

Enjolras smiled at the thought of Joly fussing on him and relaxed in to the mattress. “Well, I suppose Combeferre could bring my laptop and I could finish editing my Tolstoy essay and write out the itinerary…” A yawn interrupted the leader’s declaration and Grantaire snorted. 

“Even leaders need their rest, Enjolras. Unless you actually are a superhero.” Almost reverently R traced the edge of a bandage peeking out above the neckline of the hospital gown. 

“Apollo?” He asked, lifting his gaze from the wound. Enjolras’ face was set in determination. Even in sleep, his boyfriend had the world on his shoulders. 

Grantaire settled in to the chair and folded his arms across his chest. The heart monitor beeped steadily and R tapped his foot, the beginnings of a plan coming together in his mind.

***

“Cosette?” A muffled voice called. 

“In here!” She replied, leaping to her feet with a hand from Marius. 

Dr. Valjean stepped in to the Ladies’ bathroom hesitantly and only after warily eying Marius turned to his daughter. 

“She’s here Dad, but she’s not.” The blonde frowned and nibbled more of her thumbnail. 

Her father rubbed his beard before bending down to get a better look at the panicked young woman rocking in the corner. “My God, she was here yesterday. She and another boy brought my patient to the A&E.” He tapped the floor with a finger. “I didn’t notice. God, Eponine and Grantaire isn’t it? It’s been years, years since I’d heard anything.” 

Cosette watched her father’s epiphany with measured caution. 

Oblivious to the careful balance, Marius attempted to connect the dots. “Hang on, you’re the doctor that’s been assigned to Enjolras, my friend, and you know ‘Ponine too? But…this doesn’t…I” 

“Hush.” His girlfriend soothed. She sank to the floor with her father and watched Eponine hum softly to herself. “We met about a year ago. Marius introduced us when we first started seeing each other. She works at Musichetta’s café, where the meetings are held. It took a couple months before we realized we’d met before.” 

“After all this time.” The older man shook his head. Cosette enveloped him in a hug and they embraced before they began to talk clinically about Eponine. 

Marius watched in amazement as the tandem coaxed this scared creature inhabiting Eponine’s body out of the corner. 

“I know you!” Not-Eponine squeaked, jamming her finger at Dr. Valjean. 

He offered a warm smile and maintained his distance. “Ah, what’s your name dearie?” 

“Mal.” She answered, giggling. “You took my friend away, she fly away with you and I call her a lark. But you were nice and I like the hat you let me have.” 

Cosette gasped and she quickly had Marius’ arms wrapped around her shoulders. He had learned about Cosette’s time in foster care in increments. She didn’t like to talk about it, but he knew she was haunted by her time with the Thenardiars. 

“Cosette my dear, why don’t you take Ep-err, Mal to the staff lounge? Perhaps you can draw on the whiteboard and get a snack.” 

His daughter disentangled herself from her boyfriend and guided Eponine to the bathroom door. 

“Marius, I’d like to speak with you…alone.” 

Nodding, the young man blanched and leaned against the sink. “Yes sir.” 

Dr. Valjean gestured towards the door. “Perhaps my office would be more suitable?” 

“Ah.” Marius struggled with what to say. Everything he thought of sounded dumb and placating. No matter what language he said it in. 

“Marius, I trust Cosette has told you about her childhood. I assume you can glean some of Eponine’s past from your friend’s group as well.” 

“Yes, I-I know it wasn’t pleasant until you were able to take her away.” 

The doctor ushered the boy into his office and poured them each a cup of water. “I intended to rescue all of them, not just Cosette. Once I was able to have regular visitation with her, I began to understand what sort of business Thenardiar dealt in.” 

Marius swallowed thickly. Flashes of scars danced in front of his eyes. The taut and discolored skin around the top of Cosette’s forearm was a scar that served as a constant reminder of a painful burn. The tip of an angry purple scar that peeked out from the skirts or shorts Eponine wore as the weather grew warmer. The white shiny scars that littered Grantaire’s back when he could be convinced to join them for a swim or that could be seen when he boxed with Bahorel and Feuilly. 

“I meant to come back for Eponine, her sister, brothers, Grantaire and the others.” 

“What happened?” There was a hard edge of anger in Marius’ usually mellifluous voice. 

The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a Combeferre-like fashion. “The better question to ask, is who happened.” 

“The Paton-Minette.” Marius answered and glared at the desk, feeling white-hot anger spread through his body. “There are some people you need to speak with sir.” 

Dr. Valjean eyed Marius curiously and waited for him to continue. 

***

“Bloody hell.” Bahorel growled, pacing the alley behind the A&E. 

Feuilly lit his last cigarette and handed it off to his flat mate. “Here, you gotta calm down.” 

“Easy for you to say, you’re a goddamn monk.” He retorted and resumed pacing in tighter circles. 

Combeferre finished wiping his glasses on the hem of his t-shirt and watched his friends. “We need to talk to Enjolras and R.” When the guide spoke he rarely used as many words as Enjolras, but never as few as Feuilly did. 

Bahorel snorted. “Yeah, how’s that gonna go. Hey buddy, how’re ya feeling? Heard you mighta been raped…wanna gab about it?” He mocked. 

The guide paled and turned away from Bahorel. 

“You dick.” Feuilly shook his head. “That’s not what he meant and you know it.” 

“Why didn’t she fucking say anything?” Bahorel braced himself against the brick wall and half heartedly kicked at it. 

“She’s been hurt. For years she…and Grantaire have been…violated repeatedly. I can’t imagine how…” Combeferre whispered in to his hands that were cupped around his mouth. 

“Now they are fucking back. The Paton-Minette. Christ.” Feuilly shook his head. His hands were shaking and he could use a cigarette. He’d cut back to one a day, but desperate times were calling. 

He opened his mouth to ask Bahorel for a hit of nicotine just as he ground the butt in to the cobblestones. What a waste. 

Then he lost it. The thread that had held his sanity in place for the past couple of days snapped. He couldn’t breathe. What the hell was the matter with him? 

He found himself tackling Bahorel. Knuckles scraped against rough skin and they slammed against the ground. Adrenaline fueled the fight and they were deaf to Combeferre’s protests. 

When blood leaked from his nose and painted his lips Feuilly blinked and released his fists. Bahorel followed suit and took his arm away from his face and released his friend’s shirt. 

It started with smirk from Bahorel. He pointed at the blood mustache Feuilly had inadvertently smeared on his own face. Feuilly had flipped him off and flicked at what was sure to be a bruise on his forehead. 

It ended with them leaning against the brick wall, laughing hysterically and cursing. 

Combeferre eventually joined in relaying the play by play and offering a stupid grin every now and then. 

***

The staff lounge was empty. Apparently surgeons were not likely to take breaks, much like Enjolras. 

Cosette cleared a section of the table and set a small notepad and various writing implements in front of her friend. 

“Would you like to draw with me Mal?” She asked, watching her twirl her hair nervously and draw her knees up to her chest in the plastic chair. 

She nodded and grabbed pink highlighter. 

“Okay.” Cosette smiled. “I’ll be right back.” 

“No!” Mal practically screamed, reaching out for her. “Please.” 

Cosette extended herself to reach her, but stopped when she flinched and sank deeper in to the chair away from her. 

“Alright sweetheart, I won’t go anywhere. But I do have to make a phone call okay? It’s to my friend Jehan, I’d like him to come and play with us.” 

Mal nodded solemnly and added flowers to her picture. 

Cosette blinked back tears and cleared her throat. “Jehan, where are you?” 

Right. Courfeyrac was in the A&E getting his hand x-rayed and fingers splinted. 

“Look, can you leave Gav with Joly, ‘Chetta and Bossuet? I really need you up here.” 

Her voice cracked at the end of her request and Cosette noticed Mal’s eyes widen in fright. 

“Um, Eponine ah Mal and I are in the staff lounge on the surgical ward. I’ll explain when you get here. Right, see you soon.” 

She turned to Mal and took a deep breath. “How about adding a puppy here? Next to your beautiful flowers!” 

***

“Combeferre.” Enjolras whispered, pointing to his boyfriend. 

The guide shifted his gaze to the occupied hospital grade chair and saw a formidable looking R firmly sleeping with a furrowed brow. 

“How are you?” He lowered his voice and settled his hands on the bedrails opposite to Grantaire. 

Enjolras pursed his lips. 

“You do need to rest.” 

“I hate the drugs ‘Ferre. They cloud my mind and make it impossible for me to move.” He raised his head and arms to enunciate his point and hissed in pain. 

Combeferre smirked. “So, I take it you have not been using the morphine pump?” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and attempted to shift his position. 

“Hey! Hey, hold on. Let me help you.” The guide leaned over the bed and felt his friend stiffen and draw a sharp breath. In an instant his mind thought of the conversation he’d had with Feuilly and Bahorel a few minutes before. 

“Where does it hurt?”  
“I’m fine.” The blonde leader muttered, keeping his body rigid and lips tight in a thin white line. 

“Enjolras. Be reasonable, you need rest to heal and-”

“He’s right Enjy.” R unfolded himself from the chair and lovingly pushed his boyfriend’s hair out of his eyes. “Just a little okay? We will be right here. ‘Ferre and I won’t leave.” 

Combeferre nodded and watched Grantaire get permission from the leader himself to take a dose of morphine. 

Moments later, they watched as Enjolras’ body relaxed in to the mattress and his breathing evened out. Only Grantaire’s hand remained held tight against the tangle of sheets and tubes. 

Combeferre respectfully clears his throat and waits for Grantaire to meet his eyes. 

“There is something we need to talk about R.”

***

Cosette bent over Gavroche and pecked the top of his head before sending him off to the cafeteria with Bossuet and Musichetta. 

“How is she?” Joly asked, dispensing hand sanitizer from the automated machine by the door for the millionth time that day. 

“She is dissociated. I don’t know. My Dad thinks this…Mal is an alter. A part of her that split from Eponine because of all the shit that happened. She is young Joly, really young. 3 or 4 developmentally, judging from her fine motor skills. I don’t know what to do with her. I want Eponine, but I know that this is normal with cases of severe trauma. She is my friend and not hypothetical or a case study and-and-“ 

Joly squeezed her shoulders. “Cosette! Take a deep breath. Everything will be fine. She will come back and front again yeah? That’s the term for it I think.” He trilled nervously. 

“Right, you’re right. Of course. Grantaire needs to know doesn’t he? Jehan is in there with her now. I don’t want to disturb him when he’s with Enjolras though.” 

“We’ll take it one step at a time. Why don’t you introduce me?” 

***

“Whadda you mean, she lost it?” Grantaire hissed. 

Calmly Combeferre repeated the ladies’ room incident. 

“God.” He exhaled, running his hands through his hair. “Is she alright now?” 

“Last I heard, Cosette and Marius were with her. The others were in the A&E with Courfeyrac.” 

“Has everyone completely lost their shit?!” He exclaimed in an exaggerated whisper. “This is the last thing I need, the fucking Paton-Minette is back, he almost died…” 

Combeferre snapped to attention. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” R asked, defensive. 

“How did you know they are back?” 

Grantaire’s face reddened. “Um, Eponine recognized something earlier.” He waved a hand absently. 

“Then…do you think-“ Combeferre stuttered and his face flushed. 

Grantaire paled and realized that everything was in the open now. There would be no more secrets, for better or worse. “Did she tell you what Montparnasse’s signature is? How he operates?” 

“Eponine was incoherent, she was babbling, trying to make Cosette understand.” 

R nodded slowly. “The cloth that ‘Ponine pulled out of his mouth when she began CPR…it was a piece of an old shirt of hers. I remember it. He uses it to send her a message. Anyone he attacks gets the same treatment. That way she will always belong to him and he can do anything he wants. ” 

“Do-do you think he hurt him.” 

Combeferre didn’t elaborate, but he hardly needed to. Grantaire gripped the bed rail until his knuckles turned white. 

“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be Montparnasse.” He seethed. “He’s been doing this for years to keep us in line.” 

Both men turned to their leader, his face contorted in pain and restless slumber. 

*** 

“Can I bum a fag?” 

“Here darling.” Jehan blew a ring of smoke in his face and passed him a cigarette. 

“How’s our boy?” 

Grantaire shrugged and Feuilly leaned in with a lighter. “He’s in a drugged sleep. Not the fun kind. Combeferre’s with him.” 

“Anybody want something to eat?” Bossuet upturned his pockets and surfaced with a treasure trove of vending machine loot. 

“Shit! Where’d you get all that?” Bahorel yelled, sifting through the pile for his favorites. 

Bossuet grinned. “Courfeyrac got the munchies from his meds and convinced all three of us to get him different snacks.” 

“Thank god for that crafty devil!” Bahorel grinned. 

Jehan watched Grantaire, the shaking in his hands had quelled and he was leaning against the railing. He squeezed R’s shoulder and waited for him to speak. 

“What’s going on Grantaire?” 

“They can’t get away with this. I won’t let anyone else get hurt. I can’t.” His voice shook and Grantaire found himself being pulled in to Jehan’s skinny arms. 

“That’s it.” Feuilly declared, stamping out the butt of his cigarette on the cobblestone street. “They aren’t fucking getting away with this shit.” 

Bahorel perked up. “Are you serious?” He cracked his knuckles and rolled the vertebrae in his neck. 

“It’s time to take action.” Feuilly repeated, his voice low and serious. 

The silence that followed this declaration was pregnant with anticipation and anger. 

***

Joly stretched his arms over his head and excused himself from playing with Mal and Cosette. 

As he walked the halls trying to collect his mind, he noticed the familiar gaits of his friends. Bossuet spotted him and offered a wave. 

“Hun.” Standing on tiptoe, he buried his face in Bossuet’s neck and wrinkled his nose. “Were you with the guys when they were smoking?” 

“Everyone was doing it, a decision’s been made.” He added sheepishly. 

“What do you mean?” He frowned, pulling away from his partner. 

Bahorel clapped him on the back and Joly jolted forward. “We’re taking down the fuckers.”

“They have to pay for what they’ve done.” Feuilly explained. “We’re all agreed.” 

“NO.” The sound exploded from Joly’s chest. He rarely raised his voice, except in a germ-induced panic. 

His friends stared at him. Joly’s body vibrated with something resembling anxiety and fear. “Absolutely not. You have no idea what you are dealing with. None.” 

Joly wrung his hands. “You weren’t there. You didn’t patch them up every day for months before they could escape. And Halloween, I can’t. You can’t possibly think that you can take down an international criminal organization. You have no idea!” 

He came back to his body to realize that he’d been shouting and headed for the stairwell. The one man who could help them see reason was currently high out of his mind in the A&E. But hey, they had worked with less before. 

***

Courfeyrac licked his fingers and held the sweets wrapper to his mouth. His hands weren’t quite cooperating with him and the bandages kept getting in the way! 

“Courf!” Joly drew back the curtain and sighed. It was New Years’ Eve all over again. 

“JOLY!” He greeted enthusiastically, pupils dilated five times their normal size. “Where have you been?” 

“Around, listen Courfeyrac. I need you to pay attention.” 

“Okay.” He giggled and poked Joly’s nose. 

“The guys are want to go after the Paton-Minette. They can’t. They don’t understand. After Halloween, I learned anything related to them is suicide…and murder. I don’t know how to make them understand.” 

Courfeyrac seemed to sober immediately. 

“I need you Courf. You have to talk to Grantaire. Eponine can’t do it, I tried…but they don’t take me seriously.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He agreed, dragging a hand across his face. 

Joly bent his head and saw the tears fall from his friend’s face on to his zippered pull over. 

***

Feuilly shifted his weight and exhaled. Bossuet, Bahorel and he watched Cosette, Jehan and Eponine or Mal. 

The window offered a perfect view of the staff lounge and they watched the three people they considered most vulnerable of their group interact. Cosette folded a small origami swan out of a notecard and pretended to fly it in lazy loops. Jehan was plaiting Eponine’s hair as she giggled and blushed like a child. She drew a heart and began to color it, working so hard her tongue stuck out in concentration. 

Feuilly tuned out the rest of the world and let his observational powers take over his senses. This wasn’t Eponine. It couldn’t be. This alter as Joly said, was separate from Eponine. This child was innocent, but frightened. The walls that the Eponine he knew had built had not yet formed. She was still broken, but resilient and not jaded. He saw himself in this alter. There was a universality in this child’s behavior that Feuilly recognized from his years in the orphanage. 

Bahorel and Bossuet were talking quietly and pointing through the dimmed glass. Feuilly shook himself out of thought and pressed his nose to the window. 

Eponine appeared to doze off, her eyes fluttered and closed for no more than a handful of seconds. Cosette stopped Jehan from touching her and they all waited. 

Without warning she jolted and her muscles twitched. She blinked rapidly, twisted out of Jehan’s lap and assumed a defensive position. 

The young men burst in to the room. Cosette glared at them and motioned for them to stay near the door. 

“Honey! Take a breath and drop the crayon.” 

Eponine shifted her gaze to her hand and released the child’s art implement. “WHAT. THE. FUCK.” 

Jehan launched himself at Eponine, squealing in delight. Cosette clapped her hands. Feuilly and Bahorel engaged in a chest bump. Bossuet whipped out his phone, presumably to tell his lovers, Combeferre and R the good news. 

***

“No. Really.” Eponine’s heart hammered faster than a hummingbird’s wings flapped. Was she speaking? A vice of panic crushed her ribcage and breathing became a monumental task. 

“Eponine.” 

Her name jolted her back to her body. Everyone was so loud. She couldn’t think. Nothing made sense. 

“Eponine, ‘Ponine. It’s me.” 

She was in the open. Unprotected. She needed to shut down, leave her body. Wait for the body to explode with pain. 

“Squeeze my hands. Remember? This is our game. Come on ‘Ponine.” 

Reality hit her like a lorry and the vice released her. Her lungs greedily exchanged oxygen and carbon dioxide. She gripped Grantaire’s hands so tight they shook and her nails were imprinted in his palms. 

“R, R, R, R.” She repeated his nickname like a mantra, an answer to her prayers. 

“Shhh. I’ll never leave ‘Ponine. It’s alright now.” 

Grantaire pulled her to his chest and she closed her eyes. His heartbeat regulated her own and in his arms, Eponine felt the chaos recede.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Next chapter will be up tomorrow. I hope everyone is staying safe and surviving this social isolation. Message me if you have any feedback for this fic or any of my others!


	22. Holding Patterns

_A boot connected with his chest._

_Blinded with pain that exploded behind his eyes, Enjolras tried to curl in to himself, but hands forced him to lie on his back._

_He tried in vain to roll away, but something pinned his leg and a sickening crack broke the silence as his full weight forced his body in the opposite direction of his leg._

_Pain roared through his brain before another blow blessed him with unconsciousness._

Fantine placed a blood pressure cuff around her patient’s arm. He was sweating profusely and mumbling in his sleep.

She made a notation in the chart and clucked her tongue. He had regularly refused intravenous pain medication for the past four days and nights.

As a self-declared control freak, Fantine could understand some of his stubbornness.

Enjolras’ pain level was by no means under control, but she could not betray her patient’s confidence and dose him with a drug that would help him rest.

_“You and I need to be introduced.” A voice crooned. Hands grabbed at and manipulated his body without his consent._

Enjolras writhed and moaned from the mattress and Fantine hesitated in her professional duties.

In a flurry of motion, her patient kicked away the thin sheet with his un-casted leg. Her eyes scanned his wounds for any signs of irritation or loose bandages.

Spots of dried blood between the cast and the space between his legs caught her attention. “Claire!”

A colleague with bubblegum pink scrubs popped her head in Enjolras’ room. “Yeah?”

“Help me turn him, I need to examine a wound on his backside. There’s bleeding. Do’ya know if anything is marked on the chart about that?”

Claire chewed on her lip and shook her head. “The A&E didn’t mark anything, nor did the surgical team.”

She finished scanning the chart for good measure and replaced it by the whiteboard on the wall.

On the count of trois, the two women rolled the patient on his side. Claire braced him so Fantine could inspect the area.

_Enjolras shivered in the cold night air._

_His Dockers and pants had been roughly yanked down to his ankles. “Tight little fucker aren’t you?”_

_The voice growled, hot against the back of his neck._

_Pain transported him away from his body, but he could see what was happening._

_T_ _hat poor man, each thrust jamming his face further into the pavement._ “Mon dieu”

She whispered. “I need to page an attending. We need to order antivirals, SI antibiotics, HIV and STI markers and a full forensic exam.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Block off entry to this room, no unauthorized personnel. Can you locate his friends? The ones who have been here all week, we need to update the police. Our rapist and attempted murderer is back and branding again.”

_Fabric scraped his backside and reopened the semi-clotted cuts causing him to cry out._

_The devil laughed and flipped Enjolras over with one hand, while wiping himself off with the other._

_A damp rag saturated with coppery blood and other fluids gagged him, but hands kept his arms behind his back._

_Kicks resumed until the world went black again._

Gently, she traced the knife wound at the base of Enjolras’ back.

The caked blood could not completely blot out the letters and the words, Paton-Minette could be seen clear as day.

***

12 days and 7 hours later Courfeyrac turned up the collar of his coat and continued weaving in and out of rush hour foot traffic.

The commute from his last lecture of the day to the antique shop where Jehan worked part time took a little less than forty minutes on a good day.

High winds, snow flurries and the beginnings of cold did not count as a ‘good’ day in any sense of the word.

Nor did hearing confirmation that one of his best mates had been assaulted and brutalized in the most intimate way. He felt bitterness swell and fought to squelch it, there would be plenty of time to address that later at the meeting. Finding the familiar window display, Courf yanked the door open and blew inside. The bell jingled merrily and he shook out his curls in time to the beat.

“Hello my love!” Jehan greeted happily.

“No customers today?” Courfeyrac glanced around the still and empty store before pecking his boyfriend on the cheek.

“Non. Monsieur Lavine is allowing me to close early due to the ‘impending storm’.” Jehan quoted sarcastically.

His boyfriend chuckled and began to close out the register while Jehan collected his belongings.

“Just because your manager is 87 years old and afraid of the weather means you can close early? If this were any other day, I’d be wildly jealous.” Jehan nodded sympathetically and patted his head.

Poor Courfeyrac had an unpaid internship with a local council member and he spent most of his time in the basement of the community center sorting through ancient paperwork.

“Shall we?” Courf asked a quarter of an hour later, once Jehan had locked the register, noted purchases for the day and donned his winter apparel.

“To ‘Chetta’s we go!” He linked arms with his lover and braced himself for the beginning of Parisian winter.

***

Grantaire smiled to himself and added a few crisps to the plate. “You know, I’m actually pleased with how this panini turned out.”

Expecting to see Enjolras’ face glowering at him, he rolled his eyes and slammed the sandwich down on the coffee table with more force than he intended.

He took in the rumpled blanket and disregarded walker before yelling for Combeferre.

The door to the guide’s room opened and a disheveled looking Combeferre poked his head out.

“He’s at it again.” R stated simply, pointing to the evidence in the living room.

“Why’d you leave him alone?” ‘Ferre started.

“I left to make food, God he needs to eat and he was watching BBC! I thought it was safe.”

Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Combeferre waved him towards the bathroom. The door was pushed open to reveal a wobbly Enjolras attempting to slap shaving cream on his face without removing his hands from a pair of crutches.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” Grantaire exploded, his eyebrow twitching in frustration.

“Shaving.” Enjolras answered, sizing up the distance between himself and the razor at the other end of the sink.

Combeferre senses his friend’s plan before he even moved a muscle and stepped in front of Grantaire. “No.” He said simply. “Sit down.” He pointed to the toilet.

“But I’m fine.” Enjolras protested.

“No more arguments, Enjy.” Combeferre directed him to the makeshift seat. “You signed out of the hospital AMA. The only reason, and I do mean the only reason we allowed you to do that is because you agreed to round the clock care provided by your boyfriend and a training medical student.”

The patient in question crossed his arms gingerly. “I don’t need any care. Or your pity.” He stubbornly declared.

“No one pities you my friend. We only want to help. Let us do this. If you do not willingly sit down and let us help you get ready you are NOT going to partake in any meeting tonight. I will drive you back to hospital and admit you myself. Do you understand?”

Enjolras plopped down on the closed seat and let his mouth fall open.

Grantaire laughed and clapped Combeferre on the back. “Right. Exactly what he said, now what’s it going to be, hospital or help?”

He hung his head like a petulant child and sighed. “I don’t like it when you two work together.”

“I’ll get the walker, you can’t use crutches until your abdominal sutures have had time to heal.” Combeferre plucked the crutches from his friend’s grasp and wished Grantaire luck.

“Oh don’t worry, but the time you come back I’ll have him looking preened and proper for the gang.” His eyes gleamed wickedly and he brandished a bottle of 3 in 1 discount body wash, shampoo and conditioner.

Enjolras was like a puppy. Bathing had to be quick and dirty.

Sure he was injured, but Grantaire knew that wouldn’t make him fight it any less. His cast weighed at least 2 kilos and Enjolras was not above using it as a weapon.

***

The dough cracked in the pie plate and Eponine swore under her breath. Dipping a finger in the bowl of ice water, she carefully repaired it.

“Pumpkin?” A familiar voice inquired.

“Shit! Joly, thanks for the coronary. What are you doing here?” He lifted his arms in a gesture of surrender and walked towards the counter.

“My shift just ended and we’re all meeting here before going over right?”

“Oh yeah. What time is that?” She scratched her scalp and flour dotted her hair.

“Not for another hour.” He followed her to the sink and washed his hands after she was done. “So, what are you making?”

“One more pumpkin and pecan pie, then two dozen mini pumpkin cheesecakes.”

Joly laughed and rolled up to sleeves. “May I be your sous chef?”

“Of course my dear Joly. You are a much better partner to bake with than your girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, they are NOT allowed to use the kitchen without me. She gets entirely too distracted and cannot measure anything.”

“While Bossuet manages to set himself on fire.” She smirked, deftly cracking an egg in to the batter.

“Oh my god, you heard about that?” He screeched, inserting a whisk into the bowl Eponine had pushed towards him.

Now Eponine failed to stifle a laugh. “Oh yes, she talked my ear off about it this morning when I came in." They fell in to an easy rhythm filled with comfortable silences.

When the pie was cooling and the cheesecakes were in the double oven, Joly broke the peace and quiet. “Have you been sleeping? R mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time wandering around the apartment at night.”

“Hmm, I think something is burning.” She evaded his concern and chatted amicably about the temperature of the oven and how delicate the batter was to motion and disruption.

***

“Jehhhhhaaaannn! Courfffffyyyyy!” Little feet rushed towards the front door of ‘Chetta’s café and collided with two sets of long legs.

“Bonjour my little man!” Jehan cooed, scooping Gavroche up in his arms.

“How was school?” Courfeyrac asked, jamming his cap on the child’s head.

It dwarfed him, but his eyes lit up when Courf adjusted the fit ‘just so’.

“Hi Jehan!” He smiled, hugging the poet’s neck. “School was good, I had lunch today and I wrote about Enjy getting out of the hospital.”

“Wow! That is quite a day Gav, should we go set up a table?” Jehan let him down from his hip and allowed him to lead the way through the bakery.

Courfeyrac watched them go and turned at the sound of a new arrival.

Combeferre looked solemn and haggard. His friend’s glasses magnified the dark circles under his eyes.

Courfeyrac couldn’t restrain himself and enveloped him in a quick embrace before leading him to the counter to order a coffee from Felix.

***

“How are you ‘Ferre?” Combeferre suppressed a yawn and stirred a lump of sugar in to his coffee.

“Fine, fine. Grantiare and I only had to threaten him a handful of times with readmission to the hospital. Even managed to get him shaved and bathed. Normally nominal tasks, I know, but with everything that’s happened-“ A huge yawn nearly split his head in two and he blinked at Courfeyrac.

“When I left, R was trying to get him to eat something. This gathering tonight, it’s been a bribe to get Enjolras to let us help him you know. He babbled, using words liberally without his normal restraint.

Courfeyrac reached for his friend’s hand. Of all the Amis, he was the most tactile and valued touch over any other form of comfort in most situations. “What do we talk about?” He asked, gingerly poking at the elephant in the room.

“I honestly don’t know Couf.”

“Do we ignore it like we do with R and ‘Ponine’s pasts and only recognize it when it is brought to the surface? Or address it head on, like Enjolras does with everything?”

He shrugged and sipped his coffee. “He and Grantaire have discussed it I am sure. They both deal with nightmares. I’ve heard screaming…” Combeferre continued speaking, but Courfeyrac was lost in memory.

_“Thanks for letting me crash Courf.” Grantaire dropped his backpack on the floor and spread his jacket out parallel to his friend’s bed._

_“Anytime man. Want the bed?”_

_“_ _Nah. I’m good on the floor.” He answered gruffly, curling in to a ball within the parameters of his worn coat._

_Courfeyrac rummaged through the mess that was his own bed and surfaced with an extra fleece blanket._

_He tossed it on top of his friend and flicked off the lights with a strained ‘good night’._

_The tension was palpable and no more than a few minutes passed before R broke the silence. “Just say it already.”_

_“_ _Say what?” Courf mumbled into his pillow._

_“_ _Get on with the lecture.” He pulled at the sleeves on his jumper._

_Courfeyrac threw back the duvet and his feet found the cheap dorm carpeting. “Christ R, I want you safe. You’re gonna get yourself bloody killed.”_

_Grantaire catapulted to his feet. “What fucking choice do I have?” He thundered._

_“Eponine’s got a job at ‘Chetta’s place, Gav is old enough to leave, you’ve got people to help.” He ticked off the reasons one by one._

_R shook his head and began to pace the narrow space between the desk and door. “They’re everywhere. You don’t understand.”_

_Courfeyrac slammed his mate against the wall, practically seething with anger. “ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING. How many times have Joly and I driven out to find you in the middle of the night. Beaten, bloody and barely conscious. Maybe I’m fucking tired of this shit.”_

_After a beat of silence, Courfeyrac released him._

_Breathing heavily, he watched the next minute unfold in slow motion. Grantaire fell to his hands and knees before scrambling for the standardized Ikea desk._

_Courfeyrac sneered and opened his mouth to spit out a snarky retort when Grantaire whimpered._

_He fucking whimpered and consolidated himself under the desk and pulled the wooden chair in front of himself._

_Courfeyrac threw a hand over his mouth and reached for his mate, like an abused puppy on those damn PSAs Grantaire flinched away from him and shook with violent tremors._

_His heart ached as he watched R fight against demons of the invisible nature._

_He cried out and threw himself at invisible abusers in favor of protecting Eponine and his other foster siblings._

_It was a descent in to a world Courfeyrac had never known._

He was certainly educated that night.

“Courfeyrac?” Combeferre gently tapped the table in front.

“Courf?”

“Yeah, I heard you ami.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

“Has he talked about it?”

That damn four letter word hung in the space between the two men. Rape.

Combeferre shrugged. “I have spent nights at work and days with him and Grantaire. The hours consist of keeping him calm and medically stable, there hasn’t been time to deal with the emotional trauma…not that I know what to say.”

“You’re doing enough ‘Ferre.”

“No,” His friend picked at a spot of dry skin on his hand and refocused his gaze out one of the many windows in the café.

“I’m not.” Courfeyrac was at a loss for words, which was a rarity and would have drawn attention and good natured ribbing from his friends under any other circumstance.

Instead he took the guide’s hands in his and remained silent.

***

The last three buttons of Gavroche’s coat proved to be impossible and Eponine’s hands shook harder in response to her frustration and anxiety.

“Here, ma petit.” Jehan offered, gently slipping the buttons in to place and winding the scarf around the boy’s neck.

“What do you say Gavroche?” Eponine prompted, slugging her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks Jehan. Wanna walk with me?”

“But of course my dear.” The poet agreed and slipped his gloved hand in to Gavroche’s mitten clad one.

Eponine watched them skip ahead of the group.

Despite the chaos of the past couple days, Jehan and Gavroche remained as resilient as ever.

“Ready?” Asked Joly, gently bumping against her.

She shrugged and stared at the back of Combeferre’s coat bobbing in front of her.

“He’s a mess.”

Joly waited for her to continue, but when Eponine remained silent he replied. “R or Enjolras?”

“Both of them. Enjolras is barely stable. His stubborn arse is what’s keeping him out of the hospital.” She aggressively swept a rogue strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Grantaire is…he’s always fine. I can’t read him anymore.”

“Yeah. Even Courf has noticed and that man barely stops moving to notice the weather.”

While this comment provoked the ghost of a smile from Eponine, her face remained stormy.

“He can’t keep this up, or it’ll be a repeat of our 10th year.” Joly shuddered involuntarily and nodded.

Snippets of memories concealed in senses flooded his brain. They hurried along the avenue towards the more questionable parts of their beloved city.

***

Bossuet’s customary knock elicited a varied response from the trio.

Grantaire flipped a dishtowel over his shoulder and headed to answer the door.

“No! I’ll get it.” Piped up the blonde from his seat on the sofa.

The god-like man was freshly shaven thanks to Grantaire and dressed in clean sweat pants and a red polo.

Despite the exhaustion that haunted his features, excitement lit his eyes at the sound of the group chattering outside the threshold. Combeferre and Grantaire exchanged a look that ended in the medical student shrugging his assent and placing the walker in front of Enjolras.

“After you…” Grantaire gestured. “My Apollo.”

“Hmph.” Replied Enjolras, moving at a regally slow pace.

“Hold on!” He yelled towards the door, wincing as the skin around his sutures stretched unpleasantly.

Several anxiety filled minutes and a few sarcastic remarks later, Enjolras unlatched the deadbolt and allowed Combeferre to brace him as the door swung towards the walker.

Grantaire quickly yanked the piece of equipment away and ushered their friends in to the apartment.

Jehan was first to break the tension. He disentangled himself from Courfeyrac and approached Enjolras and Combeferre. With the grace of a ballerina, he tucked a lose curl behind Enjolras’ ear and cupped his friend’s cheek before rising en pointe and kissing his forehead.

He whispered a liberal amount of French prose that tickled Enjolras’ ear and provoked the ghost of a smile on his face. Enjolras nodded to Jehan and raised his arm to grip Jehan’s arm, but hissed in pain. Combeferre and Grantaire set about gingerly lowering Enjolras in to a borrowed wheelchair with an air of practice and trust that no one had previously witnessed.

Cosette gagged from the kitchen and everyone seemed to jump. “When was the last time anyone tidied up this place?”

Grantaire and Combeferre looked at each other and Enjolras’ cheeks flamed. Finally R cleared his throat. “Er. I did tidy this morning.”

Courfeyrac laughed and launched in to an old anecdote from the time R’s landlord mistook his usual mess for a break-in and rang the police.

Gradually most of the faces in the room relaxed in to nervous laughter. Even Feuilly ceased pacing and settled in the pile of pillows and old blankets by the television.

Musichetta’s soprano voice rang out and fell in to a nice harmony with Bossuet’s chuckle.

Eponine startled as Joly bumped against her back. Her heart accelerated and she locked gazes with the blond leader.

From across the space, she could feel his uneven breaths match her own. The terror in his eyes mirrored her own. Swallowing her panic, Eponine forced her shaking body to take one step after another.

With trembling hands she unlocked the brakes on his wheelchair and bent her head towards Enjolras’ ear. “I’m gonna get us outta here okay?”

The moment Eponine could discern a nod, she turned them around and began moving. “Oy! Where ya going?” Courfeyrac’s boisterous voice caused her to flinch and Eponine grasped for words.

Enjolras made noises at the back of his throat several times before his voice cooperated. It was drugged and vulnerable compared to the usual confidence his voice commanded. Even so, it brought a hush over the group. “Need a minute or so…don’t worry.”

Eponine released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and pushed Enjolras into the bedroom.

She left the door partially open and perched on the end of the mattress. “Here.” She muttered, leaning forward to pull the handbrakes on the chair.

Enjolras inhaled sharply and involuntarily flinched away from her movements. “Shit, right. Listen Enjolras I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to alright?”

He watched her carefully. Maintaining eye contact with him Eponine narrated her actions and kept her motions deliberate and slow.

“Eponine.”

“Huh?” She answered adjusting the footrest under the casted leg.

“Eponine…” He said again.

“One sec.” She locked the metal plate securely before pulling herself upright.

The sight that lay before her was enough to make her lose her breath.

Enjolras’ lip quivered and his eyes were full of tears that threatened to spill.

He blinked furiously and she watched a vein in his forehead pop up as his frustration piqued.

“Enjolras. Listen to me.” Eponine took a breath to steady her body and mind before continuing. “I don’t know you very well, but I know that like me, you are not a fan of physical contact, but you have to breath or you will black out. And I swear to God, if you fall out of that chair Grantaire will never forgive me…and I will kill you.”

Something resembling amusement flickered through his countenance and relief tickled Eponine. “Okay. Take my hands, good.”

She coached him and led him through grounding techniques that Joly had taught her and R. “Enjolras…keep breathing evenly.” Eventually they settled in to a comfortable silence.

When Enjolras would tense in panic and then wince in pain as his body seized around injured muscles and bones Eponine quickly worked to help him ground and regulate his breathing.

This strange duet continued until Eponine’s phone vibrated with news that tea was ready.

With a final squeeze of Enjolras’ hands, she searched his form for some sign of relief.

His features reflected nothing.

Enjolras had been transformed to marble. His expression was one born out of denial, agony, confusion and fear.

Eponine’s stomach dropped and she recalled the conversation she and Joly had on the way from the café to the flat. As it turned out, they were right to worry about a repeat of their 10th year. Tentatively she let her fingers touch his shoulder. No reaction. Enjolras blinked sluggishly and raised his face to look at her. Those eyes haunted her. Her mind tried to merge the image of the marble statue in front of her with preserved flashes of Grantaire’s face in their darkness moments.


	23. Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis gather and begin discussing how to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I've been swamped with brainstorming distance learning options for my SPED students. This quarantine is becoming more intense on the East Coast of the US. I hope everyone is staying safe.

Grantaire fiddled with a bread knife and toyed with the reflection. Part of him itched for charcoal and a sketchpad. 

Cosette snatched the implement away and handed him a biscuit. “R! You are making me dizzy. Please go twirl somewhere else.” 

“Sorry.” Grantaire mumbled. He wandered away from the kitchen and in to the middle of Bahorel and Feuilly’s argument. 

“Jehan, is the bread done?” Cosette asked. 

He swiped a finger against the top of the loaf. “Oui! The tea is steeped too. We’re ready my lark.” 

“Excellent! Can Courfeyrac help you plate everything? I need to see about Eponine and Enjolras.” 

“Of course.” 

Cosette brushed a bit of icing on the poet’s nose on her way out of the small kitchen. “Courf darling, your boyfriend needs your help with the pastries.” As she grazed his shoulder he leaned into her touch and she was reminded of what a tactile person he was. 

With Eponine as one of her closest friends, she learned how triggering touch could be depending on experience. She considered herself lucky. Her Papa had rescued her from the foster care system a couple months in to her stay with the Thenardiars. 

In her dissociated states Eponine had re-enacted some of her traumas. She had listened to her friend beg for an end to the pain. She had restrained her when the flashbacks became too much and led Eponine to slam her head against a wall or floor. Cosette’s heart broke repeatedly as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

Knowing that Enjolras now shared a fraction of those traumas was overwhelming and nearly made her sick on the spot. Retching all over Enjolras’ bedroom door did not fit in to her idea of subtlety, so she forced a couple deep breaths. 

Her ears picked up on Eponine’s text alert noise. When scuffling and squeaking noises assured her that they were en route Cosette pocketed her phone and retreated to Marius’ arms. 

***

Marius stood on tiptoe to peck the top of his girlfriend’s head and rested his chin on her scalp. 

Valjean’s words echoed in his mind. Their conversation had begun in his office at the hospital. It had continued over the phone and through one particularly long discussion at supper in his dining room, where Cosette had fallen asleep at the table between them. 

As soon as Enjolras’ survival was guaranteed Marius dove into research. He fueled his body with copious quantities of coffee and stovetop macaroni & cheese. With access to the university library Marius poured over articles on psychological data bases and goaded Cosette in to watching videos documenting DID and responses to trauma. He utilized his language skills and printed articles from multiple universities and institutes from all over the world. 

The poor boy nearly burst a neuron trying to analyze Eponine’s behavior during the course of their friendship. On more than one occasion he had turned to Cosette and explained a link he’d uncovered, only to get a look of utter confusion. 

Apparently he’d been speaking Cantonese. 

The next night, Cosette found him mumbling Hindi in the glow of the laptop’s screen. After a blank stare, his girlfriend dragged him to bed. 

“Marius? What are you thinking about darling?” Cosette pulled away from her boyfriend and frowned. 

He shivered and attempted a cheesy grin. “Just thinking about them…and you.” 

She merely blinked and Marius laughed nervously. “Am I speaking in another language? Again?” 

“Oh! No, no Marius. I’m worried about them too. Eponine is in a terrible place and we haven’t spoken since the hospital. She needs help.” 

“Cosette, you have to take care of yourself before you can successfully help anyone.” He added reasonably. 

She gave him a sad smile as the duo rolled out in to the living room. With a final squeeze, Cosette separated from Marius and ushered Eponine to the coffee table that nearly sagged under the weight of food and tea apparatus. 

***

Grantaire stared at his coffee, relishing the steam bathing his face in warmth. 

“Missing something?” A voice piped up. 

“Sanity.” He answered dryly. 

“That too, but here’s some sugar.” Eponine quipped tossing a few packets his way. 

She held her mug with both hands and wriggled out of her boots. “What did I miss?” 

Grantaire shrugged and watched the granules disappear in to the liquid. “Nothing. Feuilly was talking about boxing. He and Bahorel want to spar soon.” 

Eponine fidgeted and picked at a run in her tights. If he was not going to address the elephant in the room neither was she. 

“…Could I bring Gav to the gym this week?” 

“When are you going to get a bloody chance to go there?” She shot back. 

“Easy there my dear.” Grantaire grinned at her chagrin. “Maybe you could spend some time here with Enjolras? Combeferre is on night shifts for the rest of the week…” He let that particular sentence trail off, but knew that Eponine could fill in the blanks. 

“Yeah, if we’re left alone together one of us will be murdered.” She snorted as she sipped at Jehan’s special brew. R needed a break that much was obvious. Should she let him get away with ignoring his shit again?

“That didn’t happen earlier.” Grantaire noted. He jerked his head towards Enjolras. 

Eponine shrugged. “There’s always an exception. Remember when Enjolras gave ya that bloody nose in front of the police station? You say that it was the product of 100 times he should have punched you.” 

“Fuck you!” He laughed. “All I’m saying is you handled it well.” 

“I’ve had practice.” She muttered darkly. 

“He’s not like you and me.” 

Eponine’s mind jumped to parallels in the men’s behavior, but she held her tongue. 

***

“What do you reckon they’re on about?” Joly asked, pointing at Grantaire and Eponine huddled on the smaller sofa. 

“Dunno.” Feuilly shrugged, cramming a cupcake in his mouth.   
“Did you wash your hands?” He accused, digging in to his pants for his pocket hand sanitizer. 

“Yeah.” Feuilly answered, quickly wiping a hand on his trousers before reaching for a slice of almond pumpkin bread. 

“Dude!” Bahorel greeted, taking half of the bread Feuilly had poised in front of his mouth. With a mouth full of crumbs, he gestured to Eponine. “This bread is fucking awesome!” 

Feuilly smiled at the baker and punched his thick-headed roommate in the arm. 

“What was that about boys?” The guide approached the group and took the knife Joly offered to cut off a hunk of bread. 

“Impulsivity issues.” Feuilly supplied. 

Combeferre raised his eyebrows and plucked a red frosted cupcake from the platter. 

“How are you getting on here?” Joly interrupted. 

Feuilly glanced at Enjolras, who was flanked by a jabbering Courfeyrac and Jehan who had busied himself is tucking scraps of poetry in the nooks and crannies of his friend’s wheelchair. 

“It’s a help to have Grantaire here. Especially with managing transfers and all that.” He stifled a yawn. 

“I…I think I speak for all of us when I say that we want to help.” Joly swallowed for a beat. “I don’t want to trigger him. It took ages to learn how to work with ‘Ponine, R and Gav…and be their friend.” 

Combeferre started to speak, but was hindered by another huge yawn that threatened to topple him. 

“Nap first, we can talk later.” Joly instructed, grabbing his fellow medical student by the elbow and steering him towards his room. “Say good night Combeferre.” 

“But!” 

“Do you know how susceptible you are to germs bacteria and viruses? You’ve compromised your immune system…not to mention…” His lecture could be heard until Combeferre’s bedroom door closed behind them. 

Musichetta snickered and toasted Bossuet with her teacup. “Cheers to someone besides you and I getting that speech.” 

“I’ll clink to that.” He charged his mug forward and no one was surprised to hear breaking pottery against the hardwood floor of the flat a moment later. 

***

Enjolras felt someone loom over his lap. In a disconnected manner, he identified the figure as Grantaire. 

“Hey Enjy, time to…” 

His brain fumbled over the words and nothing made sense until they entered the bathroom. 

“Hey. Can you look at me?” 

His voice tugged Enjolras to the present, although his face remained like marble. 

“I know Combeferre usually does this if we can plan for it, but the man was about to fall over. He needs rest and you need to do this. I’m gonna transfer you okay? You remember how to do this right Enjolras…” 

Grantaire’s voice faded. He was dimly aware of his arms being settled firmly in his lap and his head being lowered onto Grantaire’s left shoulder. Two hands found their way under his hipbones and Enjolras’ couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through his body. 

“It’s just me Enjy. On the count of three we’re going to do this yeah? One…two…” 

The third time they rocked forward Grantaire’s strong arms plucked Enjolras up from the wheelchair and settled him clumsily on seat of the toilet. The transfer had already shifted his sweats and pants enough that all of took was a tug or two before Grantaire could leave the blond leader in peace to pee. 

“R?” He rasped, pulling at the fabric of his pants. 

“All done?” He echoed with a false sense of cheerfulness. 

Enjolras nodded and they reversed the procedure. 

“Exhausting isn’t it?” R tried to joke as he squirted a glob of Joly approved hand sanitizer in to Enjolras’ open palms. 

“Disgusting.” He is voiced cracked at the end of the word. 

Grantaire knelt before the chair and rubbed soft circles into his boyfriend’s un-casted thigh. 

“You are many adjectives Apollo, but disgusting isn’t one of them.” These words tumbled easily out of his mouth, but an awful whispering started. It grabbed his heart and snaked around his organs. It confirmed how disgusting he was, how R wanted it happen over and over…

From the recesses of R’s mind horrible beliefs marched on. That Enjolras wouldn’t be in pain and terrified if he hadn’t known him. He was toxic and destroyed everything that held light and life. 

Both shattered men remained silent. Even though they were situated inches away, they   
were worlds away. Lost in their separate planes of anguish, shame and pain. 

***

“Look Joly, if I had another choice I wouldn’t ask.” 

“That’s not fair and YOU know it.” Joly leapt from the couch. 

Eponine followed him to the bay window. “Who are you to judge?” 

He wrung his hands anxiously. “God, ‘Ponine don’t you remember who…How can you? I can’t let you-“ Joly struggled to articulate his racing thoughts. 

“LET ME?!” She shouted, a moment away from decking one of her most trusted friends. 

The scent of pressed lavender and aloe signaled Jehan’s arrival to the conversation and they turned to acknowledge him. 

“Talk to me guys, what’s the problem?” 

Eponine wiped the heel of her hand across her eyes. “What isn’t the problem? I can’t do this to them anymore. Who is going to be next? No one is safe. Why is that so fucking hard to understand? No one is safe, they’ll kill us. Everyone…” 

Jehan choked back a sob and watched her begin to shake. He reached for Joly’s hand. 

“Eponine, it’s not all that. There has to be a way out.” The poet tried to placate her anxiety. 

Her head shook back and forth like the pendulum on a clock. “No no no no no no no. J-Joly…tell him. You know what will happen.” 

The medical student’s face darkened. “It’s not the same Ep. They can’t do that. I won’t let, we won’t let that happen again.” 

Eponine’s legs turned to jam as she slid down the wall and laughed. 

Jehan frowned and released Joly’s hand as he kneeled on the floor next to their friend. 

“Y-you said that in our tenth year. Look where…where we are. Joly, he has those eyes. I saw R…the old broken R when he looked at me.” 

“Mon dieu.” Joly muttered under his breath. He gently and firmly wrapped Eponine in an embrace. Her body rejected the touch at first, but she grabbed his shoulders and Joly held her loosely until her breathing evened out. 

***

Courfeyrac winced and unwrapped a sweet. “One more time Marius, in English please.” 

Marius cocked his head. “Didn’t I use it the last round?” 

His friend chortled. “Technically yes, but it was medical jargon. You know I barely passed our intro biology class.” 

He nodded appreciatively. “You and I were both lucky to have Cosette in that class.” 

Courfeyrac snorted in to his cocoa. “Lucky, in more ways than one mate.” 

Marius cleared his throat and felt his ears pink in embarrassment. “Right, well I’ve been researching trauma. There are all sorts of information we’ve been missing Courf. Ongoing abuse versus a one-time traumatic event. The neurological changes are fascinating and-“ 

“Marius I’m sorry to interrupt. Love, we need to talk.” 

“What’s up?” Courfeyrac wrapped an arm around the poet’s waist. 

Marius attempted to tip toe away from the couple, but nearly decapitated himself on the corner of the windowsill. 

“Oh darling! I didn’t mean you. We all need to talk.” He said gravely. “’Ponine is a wreck. She seems to think the Paton-Minette is going to hurt everyone here and kill us.” 

Courfeyrac rubbed Jehan’s back. 

“She’s right.” Marius scratched at his scalp. 

“Whadda you mean?” Courfeyrac asked. 

Marius hunched his shoulders and splayed his hands out in front of his abdomen gesturing wildly. “Her father is part of a criminal network. As far as Monsieur Valjean can work out Eponine’s parents run the trafficking organization within the system. He has connections, people and nearly endless resources.” 

The poet flushed with anger and sought out Joly and Eponine huddled under the window. 

“This is why Grantaire didn’t want police involvement.” Courfeyrac reasoned. 

“Yes! We need another avenue. Cosette’s father has been tracking their movements for years. He has means and connections, but not enough manpower-“ 

“We could do it.” Bahorel interrupted. 

Feuilly rolled up his sleeves. “Bloody idiot, you don’t even know what ‘it’ is.” 

“I was listening to Marius! The old man needs volunteers.” Bahorel shot back.

“Yeah, to take on a GANG!” Musichetta added, inserting herself in to the debate. 

“Hold on- no one said anything about…” Jehan waved his hands trying to get everyone’s attention. 

“What the HELL are you people thinking?” Grantaire thundered. 

Everyone froze save for Eponine and Joly who continued to hold her. She had her hands pressed flat over her ears and rocked back and forth whimpering. Her movements caught R’s attention and his face darkened to a deep red. 

The Amis came back to life in varying stages. Bossuet and Courfeyrac rushed towards Grantaire. Musichetta, Marius and Cosette half-shouted apologies and nearly wept. Bahorel and Feuilly began to wrestle in the corner and Joly helped Eponine to stand. 

***

After a certain point Enjolras’ brain determined that he was in danger. Not just any danger, but imminent death. This was not a conscious decision, but an instinct of the prefrontal cortex. Marius could rattle off the parts of the brain and neurotransmitters that were involved, but suffice to say that Enjolras was not thinking at all. 

Grantaire repeated reassuring mantras and phrases in his boyfriend’s ear. He even broke the cardinal rule of touch and cupped his face in his own shaking hands. 

As the seconds ticked by, Enjolras grew more agitated. Eventually he succeeded in pushing Grantaire away. 

“Enjy, no…it’s all right. You’re safe. Please…” R pleaded. 

Enjolras’ heart beat in his ears and adrenaline propelled him to his feet for the briefest of moments before gravity, pain and dizziness grounded him. The last image he saw before consciousness left him was Grantaire screaming without making a sound. 

“Oh god. Apollo, Apollo! No, no, no.” Grantaire crawled to his boyfriend and rolled him on his back. 

Hands restrained him and faces swam in and out of focus, until Grantaire found himself in Courfeyrac’s strong arms.


	24. An Unexpected Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay. More plot and a bit of fluff.

“Love, you need to go left at the corner.” Cosette nonchalantly tugged on the directional as Marius clumsily executed the turn.

Under normal circumstances Eponine would have teased the puppy of their group mercilessly. Instead she picked at a tear in her jeans and stared out the window.

“Park in the driveway behind Daddy’s car.” She instructed, already unfastening her seatbelt as the car bounced over the cobblestones.

“Brave girl.” Eponine muttered under her breath. She hitched her bag over her shoulder as the car screeched to an abrupt halt.

No matter how many times she had seen the apartment on Rue Plummet Eponine could not ignore the wave of jealousy for Cosette’s life and upbringing. The caring father, safe home and access to education and opportunities overwhelmed her. She found emotions bubbling to the surface that Eponine had not let herself feel in years.

“Eponine?” Marius asked carefully reaching for her elbow. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

“Yeah, alright.” Shaking herself out of the stupor, Eponine bit her lip and followed her friends up the ancient marble steps.

“Cosette! Marius…and Eponine. This way, Gavroche is studying my collection of maps in the library.” Monsieur Valjean boomed.

Eponine raised her eyebrows in shock. “How’d you get him to sit still for so long?”

A hearty laugh escaped the older man. “He is a good boy, just needs the right incentives.”

Cosette slipped her arms through Marius’ elbow and allowed her father to lead Eponine to the library.

“’Ponine!!” Came the wild cry of a little boy. He promptly attached himself to his sisters’ legs like a barnacle. “Can we go home now? I want R.”

“Soon buddy.” She patted his back and perched him on her hip. He snuggled against her neck.

Jean Valjean stood behind his daughter and placed a hand protectively on her shoulder.

Cosette leaned in to his touch and he found himself impulsively kissing her scalp.

_“Cosette?” Valjean lightly pushed open the door to his daughter’s bedroom._

_Her shadow froze as the light from the hall spilled in to the room. “Cosette, are you alright?”_

_The child was shaking and naked._

_As Valjean crossed the entryway, the smell of urine grew stronger._

_Her small fists took handfuls of bedding and soaked clothing until it spilled out of her arms and onto the floor around her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_

_The words spilled out of her like a song stuck on repeat._

Valjean released Cosette and made his way over to Eponine. She held her younger brother close to her chest in such a way that he saw himself in her. Her ferocity to protect those closest to her, no matter how high the cost.

He couldn’t imagine what she had done and experienced, but he knew that she would go to any lengths to protect Gavroche, Grantaire and everyone in their chosen family. “Ms. Thenardiar? Eponine? May I have a word?” He was careful to remain in her line of sight, but keep a measured distance from her.

She startled and pulled Gavroche closer to her chest reflexively. “Yeah, alright.” Eponine nodded slowly and untangled herself from Gavroche.

Valjean watched as the boy walked over to Marius and pull him over to the globe that sat in the study. Eponine turned to him and avoided eye contact.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” He gestured to the living room and pulled a chair away from a small table with a full tea service set out upon it.

Eponine snorted and crossed her arms “How about a whisky?” The snarky remark had flown out with no forethought.

She clamped a hand over her mouth immediately and apologized.

Valjean held up a hand and gently shook his head. “No need, you are right. Perhaps the current state of affairs does call for liquor.” He continued to talk as he set about selecting a whisky and pouring two glasses. Eponine murmured thanks as Valjean placed a tumbler in her hands. He nodded, took a sip and sat opposite her.

After a beat of silence she blurted, “Do you remember me? “

His face froze and took on a grey pallor, not unlike marble. “And Azelma? Grantaire?”

“Yes. I meant to come back for you, for all of you. I was going to take you all away from that place, from those criminals.”

Eponine shook her head and put her tumbler back on the table a bit more forcefully then she meant to. “You don’t know what they…Mara is gone. She held on for a long as she could. After you took Cosette, she asked for you every day. Every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to sleep. After every beating, every rape, she said you’d come back for us. That it would be alright.”

Valjean bent his head, but Eponine could see his shoulders shaking.

A small part of her knew she should stop, that this man didn’t deserve her anger, but she couldn’t staunch the words that spilled out. “They gave Theo and Emmy away. Put them with people, who are probably just as sadistic. Fuck, you don’t even know about them do you? You left so many years ago. Maman got pregnant and couldn’t be bothered to keep them. They’d be about almost 2 years old now, if they survived.”

He stood and moved towards the window. Eponine paused and watched him grieve.

He was already destroyed and battling demons she had no knowledge of. He didn’t need her shit too.

Eponine traced a pattern on the tumbler and forced herself to take in even breaths. “You have every right to be bitter and angry Eponine.”

Eponine rolled her eyes she sensed a lecture coming.

But the old man surprised her. He offered her something.

Actually he vowed it, something about honor and duty.

If he could deliver, it would be a miracle, not that she believed in those.

But maybe, just maybe it would mean he could be trusted and they had a chance at destroying the Thenardiars’ and the Patton-Minette.

***

“It is going to help. Please Enjy. These will help you rest, your body and mind need rest to heal.”

Combeferre reached for Enjolras’ hand from his spot on the edge of the bed.

He flinched and attempted to unlock the brakes of the wheelchair.

“Oy, don’t.” Courfeyrac took a step towards him and reached out.

Enjolras whimpered. He whimpered like a puppy who had been kicked.

Courfeyrac sunk to his knees. “Enjy. Please.”

Combeferre offered his palm and presented a cup of water to his friend.

He shook his head and again bent down to unlock the brakes.

The cup and hand came closer. “Take it, take it.”

He couldn’t breath.

Pain scored his ribcage.

Their breath, hot and sour against his neck. “Don’t tell me you don’t love it.”

Hands pulling, touching every inch of him.

They lingered and scratched rhythms on his skin. “He’s squirming. Tight fucker aren’t ya?”

The pain built and nullified all of his senses.

As suddenly as it started, it was over.

Gradually Enjolras’ breath returned.

The barricade on his chest lifted slightly and he could breath.

He wasn’t alone.

Where was he?

Someone was crying.

No.

Two people were crying?

He was in the alley.

The grime and dirt of the concrete filled his nose.

The smell of urine flooded his nostrils and his back and hips exploded in pain.

“Enjy no! God please stop.” A voice sobbed.

Hands grabbed at him.

Their bodies suffocating him.

“Enjolras, ENJOLRAS. Listen to me. Enjolras, are you with me?”

“You’re mine. I call next.” Something metallic teased his lips and he slowly recognized a throbbing in his temple.

“Enjy. Can you open your eyes? I’m not going to touch you.” Blurred shapes came in to a hazy focus.

Muffled sobbing grew louder and guilt twisted his intestines.

They killed them, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Of course they found them, they knew.

They knew everything. “Hey. Hey! Hey, Enjy I’m here. Look at me. You’re safe. I’m safe. Everyone is safe. Look around.” Enjolras blinked.

“Yeah. See? Combeferre and Courfeyrac?” He shook his head with vigor.

He couldn’t see what they did to them.

Some injuries were worse than blood and broken bones.

He couldn’t see them destroyed, without souls. “Who am I? Enjolras. Look at me, who am I?”

This voice demanded attention, but it didn’t make him flinch.

It was more quiet, calm even. That black unruly mop of hair came in to focus. Those brilliant green eyes locked with his. “Can you let go?”

Puzzled Enjolras blinked.

Grantaire started to raise his left hand and paused to ask, “May I?” Enjolras blinked and watched as Grantaire pressed his hands to his head and felt him untangle his fingers from his hair.

His face prickled in discomfort and he watched disconnected as Grantaire murmured thanks for a washcloth. Something cool connected with his face and he jerked away reflexively. “Damn it, I’m sorry Enjy. There’s a bit of blood. It’s okay, nothing major. Just a scratch honestly. I’ve done worse shaving.” He smirked.

“There.” Grantaire set the cloth beside the wheelchair and leaned forward until he Grantaire’s head and body blocked out the rest of the room from view.

“Tired?” Grantaire felt Enjolras nod against his head. “Can I help you up?” It was only in that moment that Enjolras realized he was curled against the floor.

His fingernails were bending against the floorboards and he couldn’t seem to move.

He couldn’t make himself move.

He knew that Grantaire was there.

He knew that he wanted to help.

He knew that.

But the floor was safer.

It was safer to stay frozen.

Stay numb.

Compliant.

Wait for the pain to begin.

***

“We have to wait it out, Grantaire knows what he’s doing.”

“How the hell is this,” He gestured to their friend shaking on the floor, grabbing at the floorboards. “Better that how he was before.”

“Courf, that’s enough.”

They watched Grantaire murmur to Enjolras.

Slowly Enjolras blinked and nodded.

Grantaire rose and gestured to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “Look, what I’m going to ask you both to do isn’t going to be easy. Enjolras needs to know that there is no danger. You both are upset; hell, I sensed it from the living room, with the door closed. He is hypersensitive to anger, frustration, fear, anything like that. Until you can calm down and take care of yourselves, you’re going to need to step away. Okay? Learn how to self-care. Ask Joly for specifics, he taught Eponine and I everything we know. I’m no teacher, but ask me anything I guess? I’m not going anywhere, so let’s work together.”

He hands anxiously fiddled with loose strings on the hem of his shirt.

Combeferre nodded and laid a hand across Courfeyrac’s shoulders, a gesture that led him to burst in to fresh tears.

Enjolras flinched on the floor and Combeferre gently turned his friend towards the door. “Thank you.” He paused after ushering Courfeyrac outside. “Thank you for teaching us how to…I am sorry that you know how to deal with…how to live with…” He cleared his throat, nodded and gently closed the door.

***

“How about if we get off the floor and on to those expensive sheets of yours.” He half-smiled and waited for consent.

Narrating his movements, he sank to his knees beside Enjolras.

At his touch, the leader startled and moaned.

Grantaire inhaled slowly and leaned back on his heels. “Enjy, can you look at me for a second. Hey, hey there you are. Can I help you sit up?”

After another nod, Grantaire slipped one arm under Enjolras’ neck and back. “I’m going to put my other arm under your legs okay, just under your knees.” Enjolras groaned at the movement as all of his weight fell into Grantaire.

The body heat made him shiver, but that voice was different. It was safe.

This heartbeat was different. “How’s the view?” Enjolras could feel Grantaire’s smirk.

“Okay, can I ask Combeferre to come and help us get to bed?” Enjolras shook his head and buried his head against Grantaire’s warm chest.

“Okay, we can wait for a little while if you want. I’m not comfortable doing this transfer alone though. Do you think we can ask Combeferre to help if he’s calmed down a little?” Enjolras blinked and looked towards the door.

“If he needs more time, we’ll wait okay?”

Enjolras sighed and pulled at Grantaire’s shirt. He held his boyfriend’s hand against his chest and called for Combeferre.

Together they were able to transfer to the bed and assist Enjolras in changing his sweat-soaked clothes.

Combeferre left the medications with Grantaire and squeezed Enjolras’ shoulder before leaving the room once more.

Grantaire pulled the blanket along Enjolras’ left side so he could reach it if he wanted. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything okay?” Enjolras grabbed for Grantaire’s arm and shook his head. “What you can’t get enough of me?”

Grantaire slipped his shoes off and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to lay down?" Enjolras nodded, but pulled the bunched up blanket closer to his side. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want it okay. I promise. Eponine and I do this a lot. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll keep watch and you rest. Does that sound okay?”

He nodded, rolling bits of blanket between his fingers. “Enjolras, I know this is not what you want, but your body needs to heal. Can you take the medication? It’s really important to take, it’ll help you rest and I’ll watch over you. You can rest, I promise. If you don’t want to take it again, or if it doesn’t help, I’ll help you tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac alright?”

The medication went down more easily than Grantaire thought it would and within a couple minutes Enjolras fell into what he hoped was a dreamless sleep.

His brow relaxed and his face was void of any fear. It was easy to see how this man had become a leader to so many.

To see him bruised and battered was unimaginable. If he let himself think, if he dared stop moving, he did not know what he would be capable of. He needed to call Eponine.

Grantaire eased off of the bed and leaned against the bedroom door.

He deftly dialed her number and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. She answered immediately. “Grantaire.”

“Where are you? Bahorel and Feuilly aren’t alone, together right?” Grantaire could feel her anxiety rolling off in waves over the phone.

“Are you still at Combeferre’s with Enjy?”

“Yeah…it’s been, well, yeah, what are you up to?” Grantaire glanced at the Enjolras shaped lump obscured by a blanket.

“Valjean wanted to talk. I’ve got Gav now. Cosette and Marius are going to drive us back to you all. We need to talk, there’s…” She paused.

“We just need to talk. All of us, but I need to talk to you first yeah?” Grantaire started to answer, but was interrupted by the simultaneous shouts and the unmistakable pop of a gigantic chewing gum bubble and Cosette moaning that the gum would never get out of the upholstery.

Marius quietly commented that the bubble was impressive and Grantaire swore he heard Eponine quietly banging her head against the window before the call ended.

He snorted and lightly tapped his head against the door.

Combeferre returned the knock and Grantaire leapt back, defensive without quite knowing why.

With his hands curled into fists, the door opened and Combeferre peeked in to the room.

His eyes found Enjolras’ chest rising and falling in even breaths and his shoulders dropped an inch. “Ep and the rest of the lot are on their way back to the apartment.” Grantaire offered, as he gestured Combeferre and Courfeyrac out of their leader’s bedroom.

Courfeyrac nodded and pulled a cigarette from his back pocket. “I’ll go wait for them in the lobby.”

Grantaire glanced at Combeferre. He noted the white-lipped med student glaring at his friend as he fished the lighter out of his pocket on the way out of the apartment.

Ultimately, he decided it was better if he didn’t give into his own nicotine craving right then.

In the quiet, both men wavered on their feet.

The last few hours had drained them of energy.

Grantaire was the first to break posture and ventured to the newly cleaned kitchen.

With the kettle simmering he wandered from cabinet to cabinet and drawer to drawer looking for tea. “Oi, where did Cosette put the tea?”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre asked, opening the drawer where the take-away menus used to be stored.

“I dunno. I can’t find anything. Not even a damn mug.” Grantaire smirked and held up a box of plastic bags for the bin. “We can have more than a cup in one of these bad boys though.”

The guide felt his lips twitch into a smile.

Soon Grantaire and Combeferre found themselves doubled over laughing in the totally rearranged kitchen.


	25. Strange Friends, Stranger Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan begins to fall into place.

“Huh.” Eponine frowned at the mass of bubblegum splattered against the inside of Marius’ car. She tentatively scrapped at the pink sticky mass with her nail file. 

Cosette scratched at her cheek and groaned as she rolled a bit of gum between her fingers. 

“All right! Ready to go upstairs?” Marius asked brightly as he set the car in park. 

Both women reacted in varying degrees of disbelief. Cosette let her mouth drop open and shook her head. Eponine reached between the front seats and gently tapped the back of his head with her lips pressed together. 

“Yeah.” Said Gavroche solemnly. He slid out of the car and grabbed Marius’ hand. He pulled the man out of the front seat, using his whole body to leverage him out of the car. 

They entered the building leaving the women in the parking lot. 

After a moment of silence Eponine leaned forward and put her head in her hands. Cosette draped herself over her friend and let out a huge sigh. 

“What’s happening to us?” Cosette asked. 

Eponine sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Hah.” 

Her friend smiled. 

“Look, Cosette. We need to talk. Your Dad and I spoke. I need to talk to Grantaire first, but we need to talk okay?” 

Her blonde friend nodded. She looked away from Eponine and began shifting her weight to exit the car when she turned back. Her face flushed with emotion. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said this Ep. I am so sorry. I am sorry that Papa took me away from that place. I am sorry that we didn’t come back for you.” She swallowed thickly and avoided eye contact. 

Eponine moved away her friend and tried to remember how to breathe. 

“I…I still remember Mara. I remember…” She started, tears running down her cheeks. 

“No.” Her voice remained eerily calm. 

“What?” 

“No. You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t have that right. You have been an amazing friend yeah? But you cannot speak her name. There is a hell of a lot you don’t understand about my life and Grantaire and Gavroche’s.” 

She fiddled with a broken pinkie nail and angrily wiped at a motivated tear that kept trying to escape. 

Cosette took a deep breath. “Hey. Look at me please?” She gently took her friends hands. “I don’t pretend to know anything you’re going through. I-I’ve had a privileged life. I wasn’t beaten and hurt after leaving that house. I was warm every night and Papa made me breakfast every morning. I had toys and learned how to play the piano, even though I was awful for so many years.” 

Eponine cracked a grin and nodded in agreement. 

“I never forgot you. Papa says that every night for several years after he adopted me, I would wake up from these nightmares in terror. I’d even wet the bed or try to hide in the closet. I’ve never told him that I still have those nightmares. Ask Marius. I remember her. I remember hiding her with you. Gavroche screaming, I can’t let it go. I want to protect you and Grantaire and Gav. To think that, what happened to us has happened to Enjolras…” She choked on her words and began to sob. 

Eponine’s body seemed to move of its own accord and she found her arms wrapping themselves around this woman who was as much a stranger as she was a friend. 

“I don’t hate you.” She mumbled into Cosette’s shirt. She laughed when her hair got caught in her the zipper of her friend’s coat. Eventually she sacrificed a few hairs to free herself and they made their way into the apartment building. 

***

“Go.” Cosette whispered assertively, shooing them out the door. She brushed Gav’s curls gently as he slept in her lap. “We’re fine. I’ll call, I promise.” Marius sat cross legged next her on the sofa, a laptop balanced precariously on a pillow. He murmured and gestured at the screen. 

Grantaire held her coat open, waiting for her to finish winding a scarf around her neck. “Okay.” She agreed. “We’re just going to the café for coffee, we can be back in 5 minutes.” 

Combeferre spoke up from his place by the drying rack in the kitchen. “Enjolras has been asleep for an hour, Gav deserves a rest too. Please take a moment for yourselves.” 

Grantaire held her bag out “Ouch, what do you have in here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She retorted. 

The door clicked locked behind them, courtesy of a sleepy Courfeyrac. The sidewalks were cluttered with shoppers and Eponine found herself bracing against Grantaire. Christmas was fast approaching; how did that make any sense? Window displays bragged about joy and peace. None of it felt real, the harsh colored lights appearing gaudy and haunted. 

A bell jingled as she held the door open. Fresh grounds tickled her nose and she closed her eyes, savoring the smell. Grantaire ordered the biggest coffees they could legally sell and she found a small table in the back of the establishment. 

“So. What’s he promising now?” Grantaire pressed a steaming mug in front of her and took his place at the spindly table. 

She chose to address the coffee and exhaled slowly. “He says he’ll get them back.” 

Of all the possibilities, Grantaire would have sooner believed a dinosaur would walk the streets of Paris. “He can’t be serious.” 

“Have you seen him joke around?” She countered, wrapping her hands around the ceramic mug. 

“How? We’ve tried to track them down before. It’s…” He let the thought fade. They didn’t have the connections, the last time they had tried Eponine had nearly died. 

She waved a hand vaguely. “I don’t know, but what do we have to lose?” 

“A hell of a lot.” He ground out, fighting the urge to raise his voice. “I won’t risk you, Gav.” He felt tears start to build as he thought of the man he loved. Broken in ways that he would never curse on anyone. 

“That’s why.” She pressed her fist into the table. “We have to end this. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe we need their help to do it.” 

Grantaire swallowed another mouthful of the black coffee, hoping it would give him the strength he needed. He thought of Mara and a knife of regret and guilt twisted in his gut. Azelma playing at his feet, Mara proudly giving him a cup of water when returned from an appointment. Every memory brought him closer to tears. Gods help him, she was serious. “What exactly is your plan?” He asked, digging his nails into his thigh to stay present. 

She smiled with all the sass of the Cheshire cat and began to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect an update tomorrow! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. These are trying times we are living in.


End file.
